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I kept glancing at my watch, anxiously searching for a quick way to finally end the chat with Jörg, aka "Sunboy86." I'd already texted him several times that I had to leave, but he simply ignored me. All that mattered to Jörg was that we finally met. Just for a coffee, he promised in every email.
“Tom!” called Father from the kitchen, repeatedly warning that the discount store was about to close.
It didn't help. I clicked away from the chat window without saying goodbye. Jörg would surely express his disappointment at the abrupt termination, or he might even ignore me in the future. "Oh well," I thought, and set off.
The graffiti in the elevator interested me just as little as the countless graffiti in the main entrance and on the walls of the buildings. In the adjacent parking lot, cars were rusting away, some of whose windows were already smashed. There was always a musty smell between the bulk waste containers, and small children were playing there, of all places. For me, that was a sure sign that I had arrived in the real world. Up there in the eighteenth block, I had the feeling I was above it all, a little closer to the clouds. With over a hundred residential units spread across eighteen floors, I considered this concrete block a microcosm of the urban universe as a child. Since then, I've corrected my fantasy and now see the high-rise as nothing more than an ordinary residential fortress. While up high the windows glistened in the summer sun, the constant problems of living together down here were far more visible and intruded on the residents' every sense. The apartment complex was constantly spewing out bulky waste, people were moving in and out, people of different nationalities were mixing and changing entire living cultures. In addition to thefts and break-ins, loud arguments between residents were not uncommon. Strategies for avoiding each other or better securing one's apartment were developed. I firmly believed that the higher one ascended in the elevator, the more peaceful and balanced one's life was in one's small environment.
I bumped into Ronny in front of the discount store. Ronny sat next to me until ninth grade. When tenth grade began, he simply stopped coming to school. Since then, he's been seen hanging around here almost every day. A beer can in his hand, ripped jeans, and a hoodie were also his friends' trademarks.
“Hey Tom!” he called to me, “bring me a beer?”
Trying to remain impersonal, I silently gave him the middle finger. At the time, I was still urging Ronny to go back to school, but he preferred it that way. What freedom meant to him remained a mystery to me.
As I placed the items on the checkout belt, Ms. Helbig, one of the cashiers at the discount store, greeted me warmly. She lived on the same floor, and since last week I'd even learned that she could scream quite loudly.
"Hmm, I guess they'll be having cabbage rolls this weekend," she said, as she ran the items through the scanner. She also gave me that friendly, motherly smile again, which made me a little embarrassed. I was perfectly fine with Father meeting women every now and then. But just last week something happened that still embarrasses me. I had to go to the bathroom at night. When I opened the door, I found Father in the shower with that same brunette woman. Before I even realized what was going on and that she probably wished she had more than two hands to cover everything at once, her high-pitched scream was still ringing in my ears. Shocked, my urge to go disappeared and I quickly turned around.
I paid for the six-pack of beer with my pocket money, and as I pushed the cart outside, I gave Mrs. Helbig my “OK” for the greeting to my father.
I first hid the pack of beer in the basement and then went upstairs.
Father was busy preparing dinner.
“Didn’t you forget anything?” he asked.
“Don’t think so,” I said, and gave him the greeting of his “flame.”
"Tom! Please, she's not my 'flame,' more of a good friend," he cleared his throat and began his explanation, which I had long since heard.
She was very nice, and purely by chance, she lived right around the corner. Of course, he left out the whole thing about my late-night appearance in the bathroom. He thought I was old enough and enlightened. Surely I'd kissed girls by now. Fortunately, there was no further discussion about what he assumed I was capable of.
“It’s OK,” I reassured him and immediately took one of his sandwiches.
I was sure Michael and Sascha were already waiting for me and glanced at the clock. We regularly met on Fridays in Michael's father's garage. Since it hadn't housed a car for a long time and there was no prospect of one, we converted it into a sort of clubhouse. We pulled a couch and armchairs out of the bulky waste, and we even found a table underneath. Sascha swapped the lamp for a battered chandelier, and when Michael also brought in a serviceable grill, we had the perfect club oasis.
“Do you want to leave?” asked Father, referring to the fact that I was swinging my leg.
“To Michael.”
On television, they were showing Father's most important program, the news. It was a safe moment for me to get away without any additional questions or reprimands.
"Well then."
I still enjoyed counting the floors. Nine, eight, seven – when the elevator stopped and the door opened. Old Kohlmann came in and immediately beamed when he saw me.
"Hello Tom," he said quietly and exaggeratedly friendly. Kohlmann tugged at his silk scarf.
„Hi.“
Although I had nothing to fear, I took a step back. He extended his hand, but I ignored it.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked, still smiling, and I saw his gold tooth flash.
I shook my head wordlessly and waited longingly for the elevator to arrive in the basement.
The memory of our first meeting was unpleasant for me, and since then, I've always been relieved when the elevator passed the seventh floor without stopping. I even blamed my father for visiting him two months ago, as he determined the amount of my pocket money based on his own educational criteria. In our constant arguments about the fact that I occasionally came home slightly tipsy after leaving the garage party on Fridays, he sometimes drastically cut my pocket money.
I'd long considered the basement storage room the best place to hide my little secrets from my father. When he decided to finally tidy it up and clear it out, I immediately offered to do it myself, as a good deed, so to speak. And while I was at it, old Kohlmann suddenly appeared. At first, we chatted in general terms about almost trivial everyday things. He was also bothered by the constant changes of residents in the house and the fact that he'd felt quite alone since his wife's death. The way he stood there in his (to me) old-fashioned clothes with the silk scarf, I actually found him funny, and we laughed a lot.
Finally, he asked me if I was confident enough to change a power outlet.
When he promised me that I would be paid properly, I agreed.
His apartment's interior resembled a museum to me, but it was clean and everything was neatly organized. He showed me the electrical outlet in the hallway, and I asked him to switch on the fuse. The switch was quick and easy.
He thanked me and stood in the living room with a bottle of champagne. I was surprised, but he assured me that, of course, I'd get my money's worth. I couldn't say I enjoyed the champagne. Kohlmann chatted about his music collection and casually asked me if I had a girlfriend. When I said no, he looked at me in disbelief that such a handsome boy as I was wouldn't have one. We laughed about it, but I stubbornly kept quiet about the real reason.
After another glass, the old man chatted about the relaxed way today's youth interact with each other. Several times, I found myself laughing out loud at the way he mispronounced or mixed up words. I found him really likeable, the way he joked about his own experiences. I willingly pushed my empty glass over. Kohlmann came over to me with the filled glasses in his hands, and I stood up out of respect.
As he talked about how I could give him a little treat, I felt a certain looseness, which was certainly due to the champagne.
I laughed and said I'd already done that. But Kohlmann looked at me intently, almost pleadingly. When he then gently suggested that I let him watch me shower, my breath caught in my throat. My first thought was: get out of here, get out of here!
I still remembered the bland aftertaste of the champagne very well. The resulting silence was overwhelming, and I even searched for a powerful way to please the old man.
Kohlmann kept that pleading expression on his face. I had certainly gathered a ton of information from the internet about the most bizarre sexual manifestations. The fact that some people warned about it stuck with me. But when I saw Kohlmann looking so sadly bent over, I wondered if there really was any serious danger posed by this old man. Basically, I thought he was rather pitiable. So just watch, I assured myself, and he nodded vigorously.
I hesitantly got up and went into the bathroom. In front of the mirror, I told myself, "You've got it under control!" Kohlmann was definitely keeping it to himself, my thoughts pounded.
As I pulled my T-shirt over my head, I shivered. Kohlmann watched persistently from the hallway. I forced myself to calm down and unbuttoned my jeans. No, don't do it, I commanded myself! No, no! The door slammed shut and I turned the key. The thought of Kohlmann seeing me naked suddenly became unbearable. I listened to see if Kohlmann was perhaps eavesdropping. Let him keep his money, I reminded myself. I blamed the champagne for getting me this far.
Kohlmann was waiting for me. His gentle smile and the way he stood in the hallway reminded me more of a goblin. He repeatedly assured me that nothing had happened. He gratefully handed me a fifty-dollar bill. I hesitated to accept it. Finally, he pressed it into my hand. When he said it would remain our secret, I hurried out of the apartment.
Two, one, E, and the elevator stopped. Kohlmann walked out and turned around. As the door closed, he stretched his arm between them.
"Tom. Maybe we can talk sometime?" he asked. I turned away without saying a word. What did he want? I demanded that he never speak to me again.
Again he pushed against the door. Why is no one here, I wondered frantically. Usually, there were always residents standing here waiting for the elevator.
Since I didn't say anything, he climbed back in. In the basement, he followed me to the shed and begged me to say something.
I took the pack of beer out of the hiding place and Kohlmann didn't let me pass.
“Please, Tom.”
"No!" I snarled at him and pushed him aside. Kohlmann leaned weakly against the wall, looking frightened. I hurriedly left the basement. On the way to the garage, I forced myself to calm down.
"Hey, man!" Sascha greeted me. "It's about time! We're starving."
Michael waved his hand wildly, fanning the embers of the grill. The sausages still looked pale, though. We greeted each other. I was surprised to see Katja and Helen giggling on the couch, but I greeted them warmly.
Sascha exchanged a promising look with me, and I suppressed a conspicuous grin. Since last weekend, Michael and Katja seemed to be a couple. Sascha tried to get involved with Helen, but she turned him down.
We had actually agreed that there would be no girls on Fridays. From the looks of things, Sascha had broken the agreement. Perhaps he was still hoping to get a hold of Helen.
Of all the boys, he was the loudmouth who liked to cheat. That's basically how he managed to graduate from school. I connected with Michael more with his calm, matter-of-fact nature. I found trust and reliability in him. In that sense, both had their quirks, and I was fine with that. At school, we were considered inseparable, and when we celebrated our final exams in the garage, it was Sascha, of all people, who wanted us to maintain our friendship in the future.
I found a seat with the girls who were sucking on their Cokes.
Sascha grabbed a new can of beer and toasted a great evening. Katja and Helen giggled and whispered something in each other's ears. Michael gave up and collapsed into his chair.
“Well, we’ll have to get a professional to do it,” I said, taking the grill away from the garage.
“Exactly, Tom is the best with the sausage!” Sascha yelled and the girls laughed out loud.
Sascha certainly didn't win any extra points with Helen with such remarks, but you never quite knew what he was referring to. I was more surprised by Michael, who seemed so completely uninvolved. He sipped his beer without saying a word and seemed genuinely uncomfortable.
“Hey Tom, do you want to go somewhere else today?” asked Sascha, glancing at my pack of beer.
“Nope!” I just said, because the sausages urgently needed to be turned.
“That’s only enough for an hour,” he babbled amusedly, pointing vividly to his two crates of beer.
I gave him the middle finger. Since the start of the holidays, I'd often seen him drunk, and it was really annoying me.
“Will it be long?” asked Helen.
"Drink beer, it's more filling than your Coke," Sascha interjected, and had to endure Helen sticking her tongue out at him. Oh, oh, I thought, amused, this isn't going to work.
“Well, I’d say five minutes,” I estimated, splashing the last of the beer over the sausages.
Half an hour later, the girls refused to eat a second sausage. We boys then tucked in again and thoroughly enjoyed it with plenty of mustard.
Sascha laughed and sucked on the sausage, and the girls found it obscene. With Sascha, you always had to be prepared for him to behave inappropriately. He would sometimes lift his leg and let you masturbate, or he would unashamedly play with his crotch. Only when I saw him shirtless could I hardly take my eyes off him. I also found it really hot that his pubic hair reached down to his belly button. Where he got his muscular body from remained a mystery to me, as he didn't do much sport. I only knew Michael as reserved and withdrawn. Sometimes he wouldn't utter a word for hours. He was also the last of us to realize that he didn't just use his cock for peeing. Michael was more of the stocky type. His face combined with Sascha's body, in my imagination, that was the ideal idea of a boyfriend. But who was lucky enough to have such a perfect boyfriend?
“Sascha, pull yourself together,” I admonished him comradely.
"Hey. Is yours that long too?"
I silently ignored his question and preferred to take a bite of the sausage. The girls giggled at every further comment from Sascha, who already seemed tipsy.
Katja had been sitting with Michael for a long time, constantly stroking his dark curls.
“So Michael wanted to go to the disco with me,” Katja said suddenly, “… are you coming with me?”
I looked questioningly at Sascha and also at Michael, who remained motionless. The disappointment on Sascha's face was unmistakable.
“Well, you shouldn’t stop travelers,” said Sascha, which should have hit Michael.
The mood had noticeably dropped, and shortly after ten, I was sitting in the garage with Sascha. He was leisurely drinking one can of beer after another.
“I have to go,” I said into the silence, and basically I wanted to be alone for a while.
“Come with me,” slurred Sascha.
I waited until Sascha found a spot by the hedge and stayed a safe distance from him. Not out of fear that he'd pee on me, but somehow I couldn't do it with him standing next to me. Sascha didn't care, and I watched him play with the stream.
As we walked back, Sascha said disappointedly that the whole friendship was falling apart because of Michael and Katja.
“Maybe a few more weeks,” he said dejectedly, “then everyone will go their own way.”
“Nonsense, maybe you’re just jealous of Katja.”
Sascha waved his hand and finished his beer.
“Oh, Tom,” he continued thoughtfully, “you’re doing your training and me?”
"You'll find an apprenticeship too," I retorted. But that didn't manage to cheer Sascha up. He casually threw himself into his chair and hung his head.
Sascha wanted to become a mechatronics engineer, but couldn't find an apprenticeship anywhere. Michael started training as an IT technician at the end of August, and then I started training to be a nurse. My two friends were amazed when I completed an internship at a hospital last year and later announced my career choice. Even my father was surprised when I persevered. I found working in a hospital interesting and I enjoyed it. But if I were honest, I didn't necessarily want it for the service to people. I was more impressed by the nurse Jochen, and somehow I imagined seeing him again like that.
Sascha nodded silently and took another big swig from the can. Finally, he turned up the music and danced around. Sometimes he made me laugh when he tried to do special steps. Finally, he pulled me up, and we staggered to the music.

The summer sun had long since shone into the room, and since it was just before noon, I got up. Although it was quiet, I had gotten into the habit of listening first at the bathroom door. Just to be on the safe side. Dad was already dressed and sitting in the living room at his laptop.
“Well, young man,” he said without looking up.
„Moin.“
The sun was blinding my face and I rubbed my eyes.
"Tom, it was well past midnight," he began, and I already knew everything that followed. Oh man, couldn't he just think of something else.
“Yeah, okay,” I replied sleepily and yawned.
As always in such moments, he explained to me that it wasn't really a good idea to be in the garage complex at night. There were far too many break-ins and robberies there. Again, he emphatically told me to finally accept it.
I preferred to stand up and gently pat him on the shoulder, as if trying to make him more conciliatory.
As the computer booted up and I entered the colorful virtual world called the Internet, I read the predicted email from "Sunboy86," aka Jörg. As expected, he wrote to me that I was no better than the others who arrogantly used their youth to humiliate people like him, who meant well and were honest. His greeting was simply "Fuck you!"
Well, another one who thinks he knows me, I thought about it for a moment and blocked him for the future. I certainly didn't consider myself one of those people who used the chat to show off their youthful bodies without any restrictions or slacking. I remained completely honest with my statements and a few pictures, except that I pretended to be eleven months older. The age thing was necessary for registration, and I considered it a white lie.
Compared to other users, I was a complete idiot. At seventeen years old and with all the theoretical knowledge I've accumulated from the internet, I still haven't been to a single trendy bar in town, and I've never been to the disco at the "Kuckucksei." Hey guys, I still have no clue about the whole gay thing. I'm still at the lowest rung of the ladder of experience, will you finally acknowledge that?
Since there were no further messages, I clicked away from the chat and went to take a shower.
Unlike my father, I locked the door behind me. In the shower, I thought for a moment about old Kohlmann. I have no idea why. And as I thought about him, I found him a pitiful creature.
I resisted further thoughts because I felt he didn't deserve my pity.
“Tom? Open up,” Father asked.
“Wait,” I was glad he pulled me out of my thoughts.
I opened the door a crack.
Dad awkwardly explained that he was going to the beach with his nice neighbor and I didn't have to worry. As if I ever had to worry. I took it easy and generously gave him permission to go to the beach.
“And,” I added, raising my index finger, “don’t let them drown.”
He laughed shyly and said goodbye.
Later, I found a twenty-euro note on my desk. It basically said, "Buy yourself something to eat and otherwise, have a nice day."
Alone in the apartment, I liked to walk around naked without any embarrassment. In the kitchen, I made myself a sandwich. As I chewed, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought I was downright skinny. It bothered me that my shoulders seemed bony, my upper arms far too thin, and that my ribs were visible when I took a breath. I found it hard to imagine anyone like that even attracting me. Lots of users wrote to me saying they thought I was cute. Whatever they meant by that, they were referring to my face. Maybe it was necessary for me to finally put a naked, full-body photo on my profile. But no, then I'd get offers for food donations, I joked quietly and ran to my room.
I turned on the player, and when Justin Timberlake started playing, I mimed singing Justin. I jumped onto my bed, dancing, and surrendered to the music.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto it and looked at Justin, who had been decorating my room for ages.
The cell phone rang and Michael answered.
"Hi," he greeted me and asked if I was okay. I said yes and asked about yesterday's disco visit.
“Very good,” he said calmly, “too bad, but you didn’t want to come.”
“Listen,” I feigned indignation, “Fridays… we agreed that…”
“Oh, Tom,” he interrupted me, “do you really think it’s great when Sascha just gets drunk?”
While I was still thinking about it, Michael added that he had been finding this repulsive for some time.
“What are you doing today?” I asked immediately, as the twenty euros on the desk reminded me that I could already afford something.
"Katja and I are going to her grandparents' house. We want to stay there until tomorrow."
“Hmm,” I replied, somewhat disappointed, “have fun then.”
“So Tom, I’ll be in touch…see you then,” I heard.
Of course, Katja was important to him, but I also got the feeling that there must be more going on with him. Michael could be really complicated sometimes. I wanted to call Sascha, but then I hung up the phone. Basically, I agreed with Michael. I'd often noticed that I was withdrawing more and more from my friends on Fridays. When Michael helped me understand computers better, that's probably where it started. I sat in front of the screen for hours and felt more and more that I wanted to know everything about boys and that I was genuinely attracted to them. On the internet, I found answers to all the questions that had been bothering me up until then. The more I realized that I was different, the more afraid I became that my friends would notice.
I found it just as impossible to talk about it with Michael as it was with Sascha, who was more inclined to chase the "swine," as he called them, out of town. When I secretly considered us the "ideal trio," I had to laugh at the mere idea that between Michael, the more intelligent one, and Sascha, the trashy one, I was the one playing the gay guy.
More and more often, I denied myself to my friends and skulked around the streets where the "Café Regenbogen" or "Coming In" and the "Kuckucksei" disco were located. The little I saw made me even more insecure, but also fueled my longing to belong. So, so far, it's remained only chats.
I became more confident during the chats and slowly began to differentiate between the users. I soon found it boring to log in at night, as it was mostly about exchanging lower bodies via cam or simply engaging in cybersex. Especially since it was mostly older men. If the user insisted on meeting up soon, I would write evasively because my insecurity still overcame my curiosity. In the end, many people wrote, like "Sunboy86."
I finally got dressed and logged back into the chat.
Still no new messages, but that didn't mean it would stay that way forever. I waited and visited a few of my special pages, which mostly featured pictures of guys in explicit poses. I thought many of the guys embodied the definition of cute.
I received an email from the user “John89”.
'Hello Tom, nice to see you here. I'm Benjamin, but my friends usually call me Ben. Since I'm your age and also from the city, take a look at my profile, and if you'd like to, I'd be happy if you contacted me. Greetings, Ben,' I read and clicked on his profile. To my general disappointment, there was no picture of Ben. I also read that he was a high school student and liked music. He also said that he was looking to meet guys, share experiences, and maybe more.
That read quite well, I thought, and answered with my almost standard sentences.
'Hi Ben, thanks for your email. I'm glad I piqued your interest. You could already see from my profile that I graduated from high school and will soon begin an apprenticeship. To be honest, I can't really help with a specific exchange of experiences, but that doesn't have to be a hindrance if we still want to continue to exchange ideas. Regards, Tom.'
The response took a while, and I was just about to go back to the photo page when Ben wrote back that he was happy and that I'd misunderstood the specific experiences. He then asked if I was friends with anyone.
In my reply, I pointed out that I already had friends, but they were heterosexual.
Ben stated that he had a best friend who had also already informed him of his homosexuality and who helped him come to terms with it. Beyond that, he wasn't ready to come out yet. He found it difficult to talk about it in general. Therefore, he believed this was a good opportunity. Unfortunately, a lot of things have gone wrong for him in the chat so far, and he considered logging off.
Well, not so fast, I thought, and wrote back that I wasn't happy about everything either, but over time I realized that you also have to be patient. This time I also mentioned that I missed a photo of him.
Again, I had to wait a while for a reply. So I looked at a few more cute boys and put a new CD in the player. In the late afternoon, the sun painted orange clouds across the sky, creating a warm glow.
In his reply, Ben apologized for the lack of a picture. He stated that he was afraid of being recognized by the boys from his high school. But if we continued to chat for a while, he would email me a picture later. If I couldn't wait that long, he would understand if I ended the chat.
Are you crazy, I thought, I can wait, and I wrote to him. He also told him that his fears were unfounded, because if a boy had registered here, it would only be the one who was gay; others wouldn't be interested.
Around 6:00 p.m., when Ben had to say goodbye, I realized how quickly the time had passed. I promised Ben I'd save it. As he went offline, I looked through our chat again and got a good feeling. His writing was mostly matter-of-fact, but he could also be quite funny. Delighted to have made his acquaintance, I went to the kitchen to satisfy my hunger.
Sascha called and immediately asked if I was coming to the garage.
"Dude! I still have enough beer here for both of us."
"Man, Sascha, not again," I retorted, searching for another excuse. I wasn't at all happy that Sascha wanted to meet me at the moment. My thoughts revolved around the chat with Ben, and then I seriously considered going to the "Kuckucksei" disco after all.
“Man, old man! Then I’ll just drink alone,” he said angrily, sounding sad at the same time.
"Okay. But not all evening, and not for another hour, OK?"
“OK Tom, see you later.”
I felt torn. On the one hand, I was sad that Michael was going his own way and pursuing his own interests, making me feel guilty about Sascha. But for me, hanging out with Sascha just meant wasting the evening drinking pointlessly.
I opened the closet and looked for suitable clothes. I opted for dark jeans and one of the gray shirts. Armed with this, I went downstairs and followed the musty smell to the garage complex. Sascha had left the gate open and was sitting in the armchair. It was hard to tell how much he'd already drunk, but his eyes already had a certain gleam.
“Hey man! You took your time,” he greeted me and pushed a can of beer toward me.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
Sascha shrugged indifferently, indicating that he wasn't quite sure if he hadn't even slept there. The player was playing some kind of hip-hop sound, which I couldn't really relate to.
“Katja got him under her thumb quickly,” he said knowingly, waving his arm wildly.
“Nonsense, not Micha,” I claimed.
I drank slowly, hoping at least to ensure that Sascha wouldn't pressure me to drink more. If I actually went to the disco, I didn't want to arrive drunk.
“They’re going to their grandma’s today, what’s this shit about?”
"I have no idea," I answered honestly, because I had no clue about any of this. Six months ago, Helen started trying to get close to me. But the closer she got to me, the more I resisted. I found one excuse after another until she called me an idiot. For a while, I became the laughingstock of the class. I preferred to endure the comments of my classmates than to have to justify myself to her.
“Do you think he’s already banged her?” Sascha thought out loud and took another sip of his beer.
“Even if,” I replied, “it’s none of our business.”
“Helen is a stupid cow!” he yelled, throwing the empty can behind him.
“Oh Sascha,” I wanted to cheer him up, “there are other girls.”
"Right!" Sascha shouted and went outside. He staggered toward the hedge, and I saw him stumble. Sascha got up and reached the hedge. I ran a few steps toward him and saw that he was swaying heavily.
“Don’t you want to go home?” I asked him, but Sascha fell forward into the hedge.
His feet remained motionless and I ran over.
“Sascha!” I called, but it looked like he didn’t hear me.
As best I could, I got him out of the hedge and pulled him closer to the garage. He was lying on the couch, completely out of it. Then I noticed that there were already more than ten cans of beer lying behind the chair.
I called his name again, but there was no response. Finally, I just thought about how best to help him. Since I had no other choice, I went to his house and informed his mother.
I could clearly see that his father was quite annoyed. In the garage, he wasn't exactly gentle with Sascha. Two slaps in the face didn't bring Sascha back to his senses, and his father grabbed him and carried him away without a word.
For a moment, I sat in my chair, wondering if I'd done the right thing. But then I told myself there was no other way. So I tipped away the beer from the half-empty cans, unscrewed the safety lock, and locked the door. I put the key in our hiding place.
At home I took off the sweaty shirt and opted for a black one.
The sun had long since sunk into the horizon and darkness fell over the city when I set off for the “Cuckoo’s Egg”.
Since I wasn't in a hurry, I deliberately didn't take the tram. The walk was long enough that I could muster up the courage to get on it.
The "Cuckoo's Egg" was actually a gymnasium that had been remodeled several times. I only knew the old school itself as a ruin. What I did know from the website was that there was a dance hall, a so-called socializing area, and several bars that provided a pleasant atmosphere. The photos on the website were from previous disco nights and showed boys laughing happily.
A few young people stood in front of the brightly lit entrance, enjoying themselves. They chatted while smoking, then wandered around and talked to other boys.
From across the street, I watched the scene reflected in the shop window. I took several deep breaths, seeking inner peace.
Having reached the point of being a real man, I crossed the street. I ignored the stares of those around me and searched purposefully for the cash register. In a so-called vestibule, where teenagers were also sitting, I oriented myself according to those in front of me and reached the cash register. The young man looked up briefly. Without a word, he exchanged my money for his money and stamped the back of my hand. As I continued walking, the music slowly getting louder, I didn't look left or right. Cold sweat formed on my forehead. Flashing, rotating colored spotlights, along with a dream dance sound, announced that I had reached my destination. I looked for a free spot among all the boys running around or dancing. I squeezed my way through them and found a suitable spot against the wall.
Once there, I wiped the sweat from my brow and felt a little relieved. Slowly, I began to focus on the details. I found the two bar counters and noticed that at each end, scantily clad guys were moving rhythmically on the pole. The DJ was positioned high up. I didn't know if it was the lights, the music, or the cute guys on the poles; I felt increasingly excited. Most of the dancers were showing their bare torsos. Around me, the guys sat in small groups, laughing, drinking, smoking, and most importantly, they didn't take any notice of me. So far, none of my fears had been confirmed, and I decided to go to the bar.
After a bit of pushing and nudging, I made it to the front of the bar and pointed at a Coke. Talking seemed pointless at that volume. The keeper heard me anyway, and with the first sip, I also washed down the lump in my throat.
Since it was enough for me to look around, I returned to my spot by the wall. I still couldn't find the entrance to the meeting area, but that wasn't important to me at the moment. What I saw was enough, I thought, and drank my Coke. The music played nonstop and the dance floor never emptied. I got used to the bright, colorful light and saw the gallery above me. There were guys sitting there too, watching the action from above. When DJ Rosenstolz started playing, the dancing crowd bellowed along to the lyrics. The mood intensified and even took hold of me. Since I didn't have to worry about being heard, I sang loudly, "I am me, this is my fault alone." I took a deep breath of relief. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a blond man wearing a white sleeveless shirt appeared in front of me.
“Are you new here?” he shouted at me and laughed heartily.
Because I was a little startled, I just nodded.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked kindly.
Before I could say anything, he pulled me onto the dance floor. Hesitantly, I began to follow the rhythm. Still self-conscious, I just watched the boy, who was exuberantly giving himself over to the music.
His light blond hair contrasted beautifully with his sun-tanned skin, which the white shirt further emphasized. His tight cutoff jeans almost tickled my fancy.
“Bastian!” he called in my ear and laughed again.
“Tom!” I shouted back, even managing a smile.
Bastian was a good mover, and he certainly got plenty of looks from people sitting there. I did think he was good-looking. But I was more concerned with what he might expect from me. I estimated his age to be around 20 and placed him somewhere between a student and at least a working young man. But I've never been that good at guessing.
"Come on, let's go!" Bastian immediately took my hand. I followed him without protest. He opened a pair of double doors. In the short hallway, I could practically feel the curious glances of those standing around. Bastian led me into a room bathed in soft light, furnished with armchairs and coffee tables.
"It's easier to have a conversation here," he said kindly, directing me to a chair. The music was similar to that in the hall, only quieter. From the seats already occupied, it seemed to me that everyone already knew each other quite well. Not only were people kissing, but some were also on a journey of discovery.
“Tom, what would you like to drink?” Bastian asked.
“Coke please.”
Bastian disappeared, and I had time to assess what was happening around me more closely. I didn't find it unusual that people sometimes kissed in front of strangers. What was a bit odd, however, was that some of the submerged hands made very explicit gestures toward their partners. Embarrassed, I wrung my hands and hoped Bastian would return soon.
With the same friendly smile, he came to the table and placed the glass of Coke in front of me.
"Thanks."
With a slight swing, he sat down on the armrest next to me and gently clinked the glasses together.
After a long sip, he licked his lips. Since the cola had alcohol in it, I cautiously took a sip and placed the glass on the table. "Watch out, Tom!" rang in my ear.
“So Tom, tell me…” he asked gently, looking down at me expectantly.
“Hmm,” I thought frantically, “it’s my first time here today and…”
I wasn't quite sure what the word "gets to know each other" was. So I looked at him expectantly. But Bastian smiled, experienced enough not to be put off.
“What brings you to the pool of sin?”
“Just pure curiosity.”
“Are you studying or training?”
"Education."
"Friend?"
"No."
“You’re sweet,” he crooned, taking another sip.
"I know."
Bastian laughed and leaned quite close to me. I quickly realized he wanted to kiss me and leaned toward him. I smelled his alcoholic breath and recoiled.
"Hey, don't you like me?" he whispered in my ear, taking my chin in his hand. He gently turned my face, but I was disgusted by his warm alcoholic scent. I suddenly saw Sascha lying in the garage, and I thought I even smelled the same scent, and I jumped out of my chair. Bastian lost his smile. He stood before me, serious and very determined.
"You asshole! You think you're better than anyone?" he said harshly, making everyone turn around.
I felt pretty embarrassed and quickly left. As I walked, I saw that some of the guys were taking blue or white pills, but I couldn't care less. I just wanted to get out of there. I couldn't move fast enough in the hall, so I decided to blend in with the lively crowd.
I'd lost the desire to dance. It was dark enough below the gallery, so I stood against the wall. I didn't believe Bastian had seen me in the crowd.
When I looked around, I noticed that other boys were eyeing me or observing me. I could imagine that they perceived me as a newcomer. Many gave me the impression that they already knew each other in some way. They also appeared to be similar in their clothing. They kissed, exchanged a few words, sat on a boy's lap, and it all happened in a familiar, casual manner. I forced myself not to observe the others too closely. A few feet away from me, a boy was leaning against the wall, who, by all appearances, felt no different than me. He glanced over at me several times, a glass in his hand. I guessed he was at least the same age, except that, unfortunately, a cape covered his face. His jeans already looked quite worn, but that could have been intentional. I saw above the waistband that his shorts bore a well-known brand name. Also intentional, I thought calmly, the typical outfit after all.
What the heck, I told myself, one embarrassment is enough. I already knew that not everything would go smoothly. But I hadn't expected to be humiliated like that in front of others.
As I looked back at the guy in the cape, I caught a glimpse of his mouth and the tip of his nose. I thought he might be smiling. Oh well, it could be, I thought, and looked back at the dance floor. I was getting thirsty. I walked slowly and carefully, so as not to step on anyone's toes, to the nearest bar. Again, I tapped a Coke bottle and gave the money to the attendant. I was about to go back when the cape-wearing boy stood in front of me.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, but I read it more from his lips.
“Unfortunate!” I shouted back, pointing to the bottle in my hand.
We parted without a word. While I quenched my thirst, I briefly glimpsed the cape on the other side of the hall. I knew, at least, that I was being noticed.
I asked one of the boys sitting in front of me at the table what time it was. When I heard it, I muttered a curse and immediately looked for the exit. Almost four o'clock, Father was surely already waiting at home.
It had already become light and was pouring with rain. Even though I ran, I couldn't reach the tram, so I sought shelter from the rain in the glass area of the station.
I wondered whether I could get home faster: running or waiting for the next train. The sky was a solid gray, which surely meant it wasn't going to end anytime soon.
Even if I hurried, I'd still be walking in the rain for a good quarter of an hour. That would mean I'd arrive completely soaked. Father would probably already be waiting for me at home, asking endless questions. First, I needed a good portion of answers for Father, I thought to myself, and then I ran. One thing calmed me down: I didn't smell of alcohol. As I ran, the wetness slowly running down my back into my jeans, I shivered. My T-shirt stuck to my body and I blew the drops off the tip of my nose. At the next stop, I jumped under the glass roof and took a deep breath. When I looked up again, I saw the boy from the disco approaching.
“Shitty weather!” he said, breathing heavily.
Standing next to me soaking wet, the situation seemed strange. I actually had a feeling he was following me. Even though we were standing at a deserted bus stop, I looked around cautiously. Unlike in the disco, his proximity suddenly intimidated me.
I ignored him and didn't look back. Faster and faster, always along the tracks. I passed the next stop without stopping and ran as if my life depended on it. I finally saw the high-rise and thought I was alone. Slowing down, I stopped in the shelter of one of the old linden trees. I gasped for air. Five or six hundred meters, it couldn't be any more. I walked slowly on, raising my arms as I breathed deeply. I felt my wet clothes on my body again, but it didn't bother me anymore.
“Can you wait a minute!” a voice called from behind me.
I looked around in shock. There he was again, and pretty much exhausted. He just won't give up, I told myself, and hurried on.
“Please! Wait a minute!” I heard behind me.
He was practically dragging himself along. A grin crossed my face. Not exactly the endurance runner type. I wiped the wetness from my face.
“Are you running away from me or why are you running like that?” he asked, completely out of breath.
“I’m just in a hurry.”
"Aha, and I thought so..." he said with relief, already able to smile again. He took off his cape and shook the wetness out of his hair. It fell in long, shiny strands onto his shoulders.
"Shit weather!"
“You’re repeating yourself,” I remarked, amused, as his ears stuck out from between his wet hair.
“Where do you need to go?”
I pointed vaguely behind me.
“Do you live nearby?” was his next question.
That's how you question people, I warned myself. He's got it, and he just shows up at the door, I thought, and then what? I didn't even want to imagine it and remained silent. The rain poured down on us incessantly, but I didn't care. I couldn't get any wetter than I was now.
“What’s your name?” he asked, immediately holding out his hand to me. “My name is Christoph.”
I cautiously estimated that he showed persistent and relentless interest in me. I didn't find his manner unpleasant. I just wasn't as naive as him. For example, it would never occur to me to chase after someone just because I met them at the "Kuckucksei" disco.
“Tom,” I said calmly, shaking his hand briefly, “I have to go.”
We walked in silence and were already approaching the skyscraper.
“Well, I have to go there,” said Christoph, pointing in the direction of what I called the residential castle.
"There?" I asked him, surprised. What should I do now? I didn't want to go with him, because he would quickly find out where I lived.
“Yes, only recently,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s been a long story.”
My mind was racing. What should I tell him? That it wasn't so bad living there? No! That would only raise more questions. So I told him I had to move on and was about to say goodbye.
“Call me sometime?”
Since I hesitated, he asked if he could call me then.
“Not so fast. Please.”
“OK Tom, have a safe trip home,” he finally said, “next weekend at the Cuckoo’s Egg?”
I nodded wordlessly and watched Christoph jump over the puddles before disappearing into the entrance. It all seemed like an unreal dream. But the rain was already bringing me back to reality. I wiped my face. It didn't matter; I was late either way. Even if I didn't have to worry about a storm from Father, I certainly couldn't avoid an argument with him. I waited maybe another five minutes, then headed straight for the entrance.
A puddle of water remained in the elevator, and I rushed straight to the bathroom. I hung my wet clothes in the shower, and as I stood naked in the hallway, I was reassured that Father was asleep.
The wind was still whipping the rain against the windows and I fell into bed exhausted and tired.

With my arms crossed over my head, I reflected on last night. I could already laugh about the failed kiss with Bastian. What bothered me more was the fact that Christoph lived somewhere in the high-rise and we might run into each other at random.
What made me most uncomfortable was the thought of being seen with him. Anyone who knew him as gay would immediately assume I was too. And then what? I'd done everything I could to ensure that no one thought that way about me. Not my father, not Michael, and not Sascha either. First the encounter with old Kohlmann, and now this Christoph. Two big problems on the way from the eighteenth to Keller and back, I thought.
I jumped violently, but there was actually a knock at the door. Since when did Father knock? These are completely unknown places. There was another light knock.
“Yes?!” I said in surprise, and when the door opened a crack, I was startled again.
I pulled the covers up to my neck and immediately realized that Mrs. Helbig was looking in. Completely surprised, I checked to make sure I was actually in my room.
“Good morning, or better yet, good afternoon, Tom,” she said, and it was very real, I told myself.
„Moin.“
"Still breakfast or already lunch?" she asked, giving me her friendly motherly smile again. I looked at the clock in confusion. It was 1:00 p.m. I really didn't feel like eating, but I really needed Dad to explain to me what was going on.
"I'm going to get up first," I said, and waited for her to close the door. What was wrong with Father? I used to only hear when someone left in the morning, but a woman never stayed late. It was just a coincidence that she lived next door, he had said yesterday. Now she's taken over the kitchen? Who knows old people, I told myself, and was about to go into the hallway. I came to my senses and crept into the bathroom.
Her existence felt better when she was dressed, I judged, and found Father and Mrs. Helbig in the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Father emphasized kindly, which meant nothing other than that it was high time.
„Moin.“
I stood undecided at the door, unsure if I was allowed to sit on the empty chair. For years, the two chairs had been enough for my father and me. But I didn't want to be rude. With her presence, my beer purchases at the discount store would soon no longer be a secret. Oh man, I need another source of supplies, fast.
“Please sit down, Tom,” she said, and now I saw that lunch was already sizzling on the stove.
Father put his head in his hands and seemed to be thinking. Well, what's next? I wondered, prepared for anything.
Father remained silent and seemed completely absorbed in himself. Mrs. Helbig placed a cup in front of me, and I took one of the rolls left over from breakfast. The coffee smelled somehow stronger, and tasted that way, too. So it could only have been made by her. Well done, I silently praised her.
Father rubbed his hands, which meant it was about to start.
“Well,” he said, “where were you yesterday?”
I paused. Why me now? You should explain what's going on here first, I thought.
“Disco only,” I said quietly, “we wanted to wait until the rain stopped, but it poured until this morning.”
"Alone?"
"With... Micha," I said cautiously, watching his eyebrows. They didn't twitch.
“Sascha’s mother called in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, I see.” I explained to him what had happened to Sascha yesterday and that I had informed his parents as a precaution.
Father listened patiently and remained thoughtful.
“We had an agreement,” he reminded me and I nodded.
“I only had half a can… he’d already had over ten,” I defended myself calmly, because it was the truth.
"Okay," Father said contentedly, "just take care of Sascha. Maybe he's got problems."
I took a sip of the really delicious coffee with relief. Mrs. Helbig seemed to already feel at home. I also noticed that she found everything she needed without asking too many questions. In fact, it didn't even smell like cabbage rolls.
She probably noticed me watching her and smiled shyly.
“I’ve cooked for your father before, haven’t you, Harald?” she said, somewhat embarrassed, “you were always on the go.”
“It’s OK…” I said, and wanted to know, “once… twice or more often?”
She thought about it and came up with at least four times, but it could have been more.
"Tom, please," Father interjected, "Inge and I have known each other for weeks. I told you that."
I stopped hiding my grin, because I would have known that for sure. Father didn't like it when I asked him more about his acquaintances. Since I couldn't imagine him having sex anyway, I never asked persistently.
But after all, I continued to think about it, so this had been going on with the neighbor for weeks, longer than with any other woman before. Her name was Inge, and I guessed she was in her early forties. I left it to my father to judge her appearance. At least I liked her natural, maternal manner.
I only had vague memories of my mother. She died when I was five. I couldn't even say that I really missed her all those years. For me, father embodied both. When I was sick as a child, he sat by my bed and read me stories, or we played puppet shows together. He taught me to swim and ride a bike and helped me with my homework. When it came to high school and I became anxious about the increased pressure to perform, he was understanding, despite his heavy heart. When I was friends with Susanne for a short time in eighth grade, he was really considerate towards me.
“Harald, you still wanted to…” said Mrs. Helbig, who was setting the table in the living room.
“Yes, right,” Father cleared his throat and began to explain in his unmistakable way that they wanted to travel to Schwerin the following weekend.
Because my eyes widened and he looked at me so intently, he coughed embarrassedly and actually said that if I didn't want to stay alone for so long, then I could come along too.
“No, no!” I said quickly, “it’s okay.”
A whole weekend alone, when had I last had that, I thought, and I couldn't remember any.
Father had a regular job with the city. Monday through Friday, he left the house at 7:30 a.m. and usually returned at 5:00 p.m. We even used to go on vacation together, but not in recent years. Then we also spent three weeks together on vacation. Only this year, he got his vacation later. Even though I didn't feel controlled by him, I still liked being alone sometimes.
“Okay, please sit down at the table,” said Mrs. Helbig with a friendly smile.
I couldn't help but praise her for the delicious goulash. She thanked me with her caring smile and seemed really friendly.
“So you’ve been spoiled with such good food for weeks,” I remarked, and Father almost choked.
“Is that why you starved?” protested Father, who usually stuck to a ready meal.
"No, not that. Only, now I know why there were often only sandwiches," I joked and laughed.
Mrs. Helbig looked at me in disbelief and Father immediately pointed out that I shouldn't be taken seriously.
Father opened a bottle of wine and I asked if there was anything to celebrate.
"Not that," said Father, and with a quick glance at Mrs. Helbig, added, "not yet." As the glasses clinked, I thought I could tell they were staring at each other quite intensely. At least, their eyes sparkled for a moment.
Later I thanked them again for the good food and went to my room.
There was no message from Ben, and he wasn't online either. At first, I considered sending him a message, but decided against it. I should call Sascha, I thought. But I doubted he was available yet.
The weather wasn't exactly conducive to going to the beach. I actually didn't like Sundays because they limited the options for activities. First you slept in, then you had lunch, and then the first half of the day was over. The shops were closed, and on the streets, people strolled casually past the shop windows. I called that pure boredom.
I clicked on a few of my favorite pages, but there were only images I already knew. You always reach your limits, I told myself, and tried to find new CDs and maybe download them. Well, nothing that interested me.
Finally! The user "Silverboy1983" wrote to me, and I opened the email.
"Hi, little one," he wrote, "are you alone?" Hmm, him calling me "little one" didn't win me any points. If he asked if I was alone, that couldn't mean anything good.
"Yes," I replied and waited. I read in his profile that he was studying, and his personal interests and hobbies were fairly general. The picture only showed a slender torso, which bothered me because it remained impersonal.
I was wondering what you're wearing right now? Thanks, I thought, and was about to block him. I was just taking a shower, so nothing yet. Let him jerk off to it, I laughed quietly. But then he asked about the webcam. Well, okay, then, I wrote to him that I didn't have one.
That was it, and I blocked him as a precaution.
Sometimes it went on like that for days, and you even got used to it. Sometimes I even indulged in a cybersexual adventure. But that was more out of necessity, because you also had needs. Worse, though, were the ones who texted you for days and then turned out to be fakers; that was sometimes painful.
At least "Silverboy1983" got me to click on the relevant local websites. I read that the annual Pride Parade was taking place in two weeks and noted the date in my calendar. Even though I'd been avoiding the parade, I wanted to at least attend one of the street festivals. Last year, I overcame my inhibitions and practically sneaked there. Afterwards, I felt extremely excited because I knew I wanted to be a part of it.
The city's Lesbian and Gay Association website provided further information. In general, you could find all sorts of information there, from counseling services, club activities, event dates, to HIV and AIDS. It was already clear to me that protecting yourself was important. The only problem was, the condom packaging bore the dates of last year's Pride parade.
I didn't need condoms for myself, and I would have serious concerns if I casually put a pack on the checkout belt.
That's why I wanted to go to the street festival, where I could even get them for free.
The cell phone reported that Michael was on the other end.
“Hi Micha,” I greeted him immediately.
“Hey Tom! What are you doing?” he asked, sounding really happy.
“Nothing real,” I replied, “are you home already?”
"No, no," I heard, judging that Michael seemed rather exuberant, "that's why I'm calling. We're staying for a few more days, Katja and I, that is. I'm supposed to say hello!"
I rarely saw him like that, and he didn't seem drunk either. So it could only have something to do with Katja, I guessed, and wanted to congratulate him. But then it seemed cheap to me.
“Thank you and re…”
“So Tom, we’ll get in touch when we get back…” the rest was drowned out by giggles and I heard Katja laughing in the background.
"Yes, done."
Michael said nothing more. Hmm, then he's probably happily in love, I concluded. Oh yes, life could be so beautiful if one... Yes, what exactly? At least I didn't feel unhappy. I was on a journey of discovery, I judged myself. Surely Michael and Sascha were doing the same, only in their own way. Michael discovered his love for Katja. I got closer to my feelings by overcoming my inhibitions, and Sascha? What did Sascha want?
It seemed to me that he was actually trying to stop time. But that wasn't possible, partly because Michael and I couldn't.
I tore myself away from further thoughts and wrote an email to Ben. I told him that it was my first time at the "Cuckoo's Egg" and that I'd actually been hoping for a message from him. I intentionally omitted details from the "Cuckoo's Egg," only writing that I hadn't gotten home until the morning. I deliberately added the note that it was solely because of the new impressions.


I met Sascha on Monday. Shortly after noon, he rang my doorbell, still looking a bit battered. One of his father's slaps had given him a slightly blue eye. He mumbled something like an apology. I was at least relieved that he didn't hold it against me for informing his parents. When he described his relationship with his parents as pure terror, I interrupted him and firmly stated that I didn't like his drinking either.
Sascha nodded and agreed with me to the extent that, on the one hand, he was exaggerating. He felt he was stuck in a rut. Together, we considered what he wanted and what was possible. I found it just as difficult that he was concentrating exclusively on mechatronics engineering, as well as the fact that he had never considered alternatives. Although he seemed quite desperate, an apprenticeship away from home was out of the question for him. Being on his own was anathema to him, and the idea of not having any friends around him was also a nightmare.
Finally, I told him that we all had to understand that each of us had made new friends, and none of us could stop time. Sascha looked at me as if I had stabbed him and he could still tell me his last words. He asked me if I really saw it that way, and I nodded emphatically. But I assured him that we remained friends nonetheless.
We played on the computer all afternoon. Sascha occasionally paused his game, and when he returned to the topic, I noticed that he needed some time to get used to my train of thought.
When we went shopping together the next day, Sascha was back to his old self. He covered his bruise with sunglasses. This gave me the idea of using them as camouflage against an unexpected encounter with Christoph. Whenever I got into the elevator, I immediately stood against the back wall or covered my face with a cape. Sascha was already joking about my headgear, but I stuck to it.
In the discount store I told him about Mrs. Helbig
“That’s your father’s ‘shock lady’?” Sascha asked in front of the discount store and I confirmed it.
"So what," I replied, naturally refraining from further details. With Sascha, you always had to expect that his comments wouldn't be entirely rude.
"Man, dude. She might become your mother."
"Stepmother!" I corrected. We laughed about it.
That evening, Michael contacted me. He'd returned from an outing with Katja. As they sat on my bed, you could see the happiness in their eyes. I had to listen patiently to them tell me how they'd spent wonderful days with their grandparents. While they didn't have a beach, they did have a swimming lake.
We also talked about Sascha. I even mentioned that I'd convinced him to stop spending his weekly hours in the garage. The fact that we went our separate ways sometimes shouldn't hurt our friendship. Michael immediately agreed. They both liked my suggestion that we spend a day at the beach together.
I felt it was a shame that I couldn't share my email exchange with Ben with her. While I was growing increasingly aware that I was coming clean myself, only my spirit was willing. Ben wrote very nice, meaningful emails, and I described my time with my friends to him. I even printed out his emails and filed them in a special folder. I knew from page to page that Ben lived on the outskirts of town with his parents and his best friend, next door. He had his personal coming out at fifteen, and at that time he had a huge crush on a boy in his class. The friendship never came about because his fear was too great, and the boy had moved away. He suffered a great deal afterward and hasn't found a new "love" yet. To this day, he hasn't been able to talk to his parents, who were far too conservative for him and already had a complete life plan for him. First, high school diploma, then university, if possible even abroad, and after that, he could settle down and start a family. On the one hand, he felt confined, but it was impossible for Ben to break out.
When I described my situation at home to him, he immediately wrote back saying he was a bit envious. The way I saw it, Ben just wanted to take his time and not rush into anything.
The evening before, my father told me that he and Mrs. Helbig were leaving on Friday evening and would be back on Sunday. Besides the usual lectures about what I should be careful about, he gave me my pocket money and the food bonus. I promised him I wouldn't do anything stupid and wouldn't just live off kebabs. I was already getting used to him spending more and more of his evenings at the apartment next door.
As the first to arrive at the S-Bahn station, I greeted Sascha, Michael and Katja one after the other, and Helen came along too.
"Hello, Helen," Sascha said, as if he'd just taken a etiquette course. I was also surprised that he sat quietly next to me during the ride and even refrained from his usual snarky remarks.
"Are you not feeling well?" I asked cautiously, but Sascha informed me that he wasn't a child anymore. I was relieved to see that he was smiling about it.
Michael and Katja only had eyes for each other, and when they walked ahead of us holding hands, I felt a twinge of envy. Helen mostly walked beside me and otherwise remained taciturn or mostly silent. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of searching, we settled down on the beach. While the girls helped each other change, I used the protection of my sunglasses to give my friends a quick inspection of their naked bodies. Sascha, in particular, took his time, and I thought he probably wanted to impress Helen in particular. Before the others noticed my slight excitement, I decided to cool off and ran ahead into the cool, salty water.
We splashed each other and sometimes dunked each other under water. Sascha and I held hands, helping the others jump into the approaching waves. Even Helen thawed out a bit. Sascha refrained from any clumsy touches on Helen and at most made a face when she looked away. But my finger pointing was enough of a warning not to overdo it.
Refreshed and exuberant, we walked to our spot on the beach.
Michael oiled Katja, and Helen sat down next to me, waiting. Sascha threw himself into the hot sand, and whenever our eyes met, I saw his broad grin. I leaned toward him and gave him the middle finger, to which he just laughed wearily.
"Helen, will you oil me?" Sascha asked, but Helen didn't respond. So Sascha asked her again, but she stubbornly ignored that, too.
"Come here," I said, but suddenly Helen turned to him. Her top slipped off, but it didn't bother her. Eventually, she even sat on Sascha, who immediately stopped his raucous laughter.
"Here!" she said seriously, "that's what you want. Look at it, or better yet, touch it!"
Sascha lay there, open-mouthed and astonished, not moving. None of us would have believed she had that much courage.
"Man, if you were just a little more sensible, people might actually like you," she said, and lay down next to me again. She carelessly left the top lying there. I lay in the sun and waited to see what would happen next. Actually, Helen seemed to like him, but Sascha didn't see it that way.
Michael and Katja kept giggling and kissing, so I decided to close my eyes.
During a second swim in the sea, I saw Sascha and Helen talking to each other. I didn't understand a thing, but then I thought it looked pretty good. The way Helen laughed when Sascha splashed her, it had to be true. On the way back, Sascha even took her hand.
Everyone wanted to go to the disco that evening and I went along with it.
We met in front of the "Sky," and Sascha even had his arm around Helen. Being alone wasn't unusual for me, and I actually preferred it that way. I bought us all a round of vodka lemonade, and as the five of us danced, I was reminded a little of "The Cuckoo's Egg."
The third bottle of Lemon Vodka made me so happy that I even felt brave enough to maybe even stop by "Coming In" on the way home. I kept the fact that I had the house to myself the whole time anyway.
I stayed for a good hour. While my friends danced carefree, I left without saying goodbye, thus avoiding their curious questions.
I took the bus the five stops and stood resolutely in front of the "Coming In." Music was playing inside, and through the open entrance door, I saw that it was well attended.
There were also free seats at the bar. I took the curious glances in stride and sat down.
I ordered a Coke and looked around. Most of the tables in the back were occupied, and the pool table was also busy. Occasionally, someone glanced at me, which seemed purely coincidental. The two men behind the bar, chatting with the customers, were middle-aged. I admitted to myself that I had imagined it differently, but to err was human.
With my second Coke, I went to the restroom. No one followed me or was already waiting in the bathroom to pressure me for sex. Contrary to all the information I'd read online, I concluded, gay life in the city seemed less dangerous. No one approached me, and no one even came on to me.
After midnight, the "Coming In" slowly emptied. People said their goodbyes, more or less conspicuously, and strolled out.
Without much ado, the man collected my money and I walked home.
“Hi Tom,” someone suddenly said to me, coming towards me from a dark doorway.
Even though I didn't immediately remember his name, I recognized his face from the chat.
„Hey?!“
He laughed briefly and reminded me of “NordSven”.
Ah yes, it dawned on me, his name was Sven. But I couldn't remember any more details. He was in his mid-twenties, still studying, and the rest was irrelevant to me. When I texted him that he was already too old for me, the chat ended.
“How are you?” he asked, and his joy that he had recognized me seemed genuine to me.
“Very good,” I said, still wondering how I could get rid of him.
“I was working a late shift and came here for a drink,” he replied, explaining that he was working at the post office during the semester break.
“Aha,” I replied calmly, “I have to go, it’s late for me.”
“Sure, I understand…”
Sven paced indecisively. I held out my hand, which he ignored and asked where I was going. I just pointed down the street. Surely he was familiar with such gestures when you wanted to avoid giving out the address, and he nodded, embarrassed.
“Well then, maybe we’ll write again.”
Sven's disappointment was clear and I quickly said that we could do it.
"Inviting you for a drink now is hopeless," he remarked quietly. "Yes" was already on my lips, but I figured why not. Even if Sven had some sort of agenda, I felt comfortable enough to successfully resist.
“But only for one glass?!” I asked to make sure.
"Promised."
As we walked side by side, Sven told me that he hadn't had any visitors in a long time and immediately apologized that his room might not be completely tidy. He'd been falling out with his boyfriend for three weeks, and it was really stressing him out. His one-room apartment was on the ground floor of a prefab building, and I didn't find it messy at all. The furnishings were typical for a student: Spartan, limited to the bare essentials.
Sven bustled between the kitchen and the bathroom. Maybe it was joy or nervousness, I wondered. As I looked around, I saw a poster of Justin Timberlake, which I liked. I also found a few records among the CDs.
"Should I put in something special?" asked Sven, who had just changed. He seemed friendly and relaxed. I told him I liked listening to Timberlake or Rosenstolz, and Sven immediately searched his collection for them. We agreed on Rosenstolz, and Sven sat down next to me. I asked him about his studies. Sven told me he needed at least two more years to graduate.
We drank Coke and I took it upon myself to pour myself a few drops of vodka.
“So Tom, now to you,” said Sven after taking a sip, “have you found a friend yet?”
I shook my head and grinned meaningfully. Then I told them that I was at the "Kuckucksei" last weekend and that someone had followed me on my way home.
"I might meet him again tonight at the Cuckoo's Egg," I said. It was still vague to me, because over the week, I'd been thinking that this was all a one-off.
“Hmm, why not. Does he look good?” Sven wanted to know.
"To be honest, I've only ever seen him soaking wet, and I remember his protruding ears more."
We laughed about it. Sven thought my sense of humor was pleasant and I was really cute.
“Why are you arguing with your boyfriend?”
Sven's expression immediately changed, becoming thoughtful. Finally, he began by saying that Karsten was also studying, and that they had met over a year ago at the "Regenbogen" club. Initially, he was hesitant, as Karsten already had a certain reputation in the scene. For Sven, this meant that Karsten rarely missed an opportunity. However, their attraction grew stronger, and they joined forces. Over time, however, he noticed that Karsten was constantly having relationships with other people, and they were arguing more and more often.
"Well, I guess I'm just the homebody type. That's my disadvantage, I have to live with it," Sven concluded gloomily, taking another sip.
“I don’t know what it would be like for me to have a boyfriend,” I said calmly, but I imagined it would be similar.
Sven smiled shyly and looked at me intently.
“Oh, Tom,” he said thoughtfully, “you can only say that when you have more experience.”
We sat next to each other in silence. I thought about Christoph and wondered if I'd even run into him at the "Kuckucksei" tonight.
“Sven, I need to go to…” I broke our silence.
“Yeah, right front.”
As I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror, I told myself to finally leave.
Sven had unfolded the couch and was lying in his bedclothes.
“Here, Tom… would you like to see some photos of me?” he asked, patting the bedspread next to him invitingly.
“I wanted to leave.”
“Please. Just a moment,” he said calmly.
I sat down next to him and flipped through the album. Sven explained when the photos were taken. He also described the situation or event at the time, which also provided plenty of laughs.
Through the blinds I saw that it had become light and wanted to say goodbye.
“You can sleep here,” Sven said invitingly, and moved against the wall as if to convey to me that I had nothing to fear.
I was sure Father would call in the morning. But I also had my cell phone with me, I thought doubtfully.
“Just sleep?!” I admonished him and Sven promised.
I went into the bathroom, washed myself, and turned off all the lights. Sven lay still, and I felt my heartbeat in my temples.
“Good night,” I said into the silence.
“Sleep well,” I heard Sven say and soon after that he was asleep.


Around ten o'clock my cell phone woke me up.
“Tom?! Aren’t you home?” Dad asked right away, and I lied that I hadn’t heard the phone.
"Aha. And everything okay?" he asked, to which I confirmed. Father also told me when he would be back the next day.
"Okay, Dad, best wishes to your girlfriend," I interrupted. Sven turned to me and looked rather surprised. Dad talked incessantly about the meal we had together and the concert afterwards, the beautiful weather, and the boat trip on the lake.
“Yes, yes, but you can tell me that tomorrow.”
Sven leaned over my phone and laughed at it when Dad told me to keep my chin up.
“Bye dad and have fun, see you tomorrow.”
We both laughed about it, me because I felt something stiff anyway.
“Good morning, Tom,” said Sven and casually kissed me on the cheek.
"Bye, bye, Sven."
I felt well-rested and got up. Sven audibly stretched as I disappeared into the bathroom. As I got dressed and he was still lying down, Sven again said I looked really cute. I gave him a wordless smile.
“Then I’ll make breakfast for us,” he said, sitting up.
“Can I use your laptop?”
"Yeah, sure," said Sven. He didn't mind me seeing what was visible in his underwear.
I sat down at his desk and turned on his laptop. I read what Ben wrote with anticipation. He mainly described the content of a book by St. Lem, which he was currently reading. Since I didn't know the book, I skipped the rest. The rest was the usual stuff about what he had done yesterday with his best friend and that he'd be in town next week to do some shopping.
Since there were no further messages in my inbox, I clicked away the chat.
Sven came out of the bathroom. His briefs were back to their normal curves, and he filled the coffee machine.
He also explained to me where I could find the dishes and cutlery.
“Were you able to sleep?” he asked, which I confirmed with a nod.
At breakfast, Sven seemed relaxed and chatted about his job. I, on the other hand, talked about my school friends and how Michael and Sascha had become friends with Katja and Helen.
“Friends are important,” Sven replied, but also that he had been wrong about many of his previous friends.
"You know, Tom, when you need them most and they're only thinking about themselves, they're not much use," he explained to me while chewing on his toast. Sven also provided examples.
“I think I can rely on Michael and Sascha,” I admitted.
"Sure, but what if they know you're gay?"
“I don’t know, I’ll see,” I said, thinking especially of Sascha, who didn’t seem to particularly like gay people.
Sven explained that he barely had any contact with his parents anymore. They rarely called and didn't visit at all. That's why he came here to study. They were ashamed of him, and the people in the village looked at them askance, were his father's last words. It was time for him to leave.
“It’s just like that, I only have this life, I can’t do anything else,” said Sven seriously.
We sat in his small kitchen and talked until after noon. We talked about the upcoming Pride parade and how he liked to go fishing when he was feeling down.
It made me feel comfortable as we sat together and chatted casually, but finally it was time for me to leave.
This time at the door I gave him a kiss on the cheek and thanked him for everything.
“It would be nice if we could write to each other again,” said Sven, adding that he would be delighted if I visited him again.
I thanked him for the second time and promised him that I would gladly accept his offer.
As I walked to the bus stop and turned around, he watched me, and I gave him a quick wave. On the bus, I reflected that I had judged Sven too quickly in the chat.
At home, I took the mail out of the mailbox and immediately sorted through the junk mail. The letters were only for Dad. I turned on the computer and unblocked "NordSven."
Then I called Michael and asked how the rest of the evening went.
"Tom! We were looking for you. Why did you just leave?"
I thought for a moment and explained that I felt superfluous.
“Hey?! Are you OK?” Michael wanted to know, which I confirmed, while also assuring me that the incident would be a one-off.
Michael then said that Sascha was like a different man. No stupid jokes or comments. Katja, however, said that Helen liked to be in charge and she wouldn't be surprised if that annoyed Sascha at times.
"Well, I think he needs it," said Michael, wanting to know what my daily routine looked like. I made up that I urgently needed to tidy up my room and do a few laundry.
Michael said he was at the beach with Katja and if I wanted, I could come along.
“OK, Micha, I’ll get back to you.”
Sascha called himself hours later, but he just wanted to know if I was coming over.
“Can’t do it,” I said, “I’m doing laundry.”
"Dude! Shall I tell you something?" joked Sascha, "I still don't understand how women tick."
He explained that Helen first called him an idiot and then immediately kissed him wildly.
“It’s completely normal, you don’t have to worry,” I joked.
"I'm supposed to pick up Helen for the movies tonight. Do you think I should bring condoms?"
“You’re such an idiot,” I said, laughing, “you always have them with you.”
"True. I just don't have any."
“Then hurry up, the discount store is still open.”
“Dude!” he joked, “…and don’t jerk off so much!”
“Asshole!” I retorted, but Sascha had already pushed me away.
My dinner consisted only of sandwiches, but I finished them quickly.
Afterward, I took the time to write Ben an email. Given how yesterday had gone, I wasn't surprised that it took a little longer this time.
Sven joined the chat.
'Hello, my Tom,' was his greeting.
"Hi Sven."
'Are you nervous about your Christoph?'
'I'm not even dressed yet,' I joked.
'Oh, I'd love to see that,' came the immediate reply.
'Aha, I saw that myself this morning.'
'Oh, where?'
'I was with a young man, a very nice guy,' I joked.
'Hmm, maybe I know him?'
'I think so... his name is Sven.'
After a short pause, Sven thanked me and added that anyone who has me as a friend can consider themselves lucky.
'So much praise right away... you're really trying to embarrass me.'
'I mean it, my Tom.'
'Thank you, but... well, it's about time for me. I still have to pick out my outfit.'
Sven wished me luck. He himself wanted to pop back into the "Coming In" for a bit. He joked that his prince might wander off there, before leaving.
In the shower, Sascha's last words came to mind. What did I care what he advised me? I found it urgently necessary at that moment.
Since it was the last time I wore dark clothes, I opted for blue jeans and a white top. In front of the mirror, I confirmed to myself that you could never go wrong with that.
On the tram, I thought some of the guys were going the same way. At least they seemed pretty familiar and relaxed with each other. Their outfits also suggested this. How right I was was proven by the fact that they got off at the stop near the "Cuckoo's Egg." I went one more stop and then went back.
The hall was more manageable this time and not as crowded as it had been a week ago. But that could also have been because I arrived quite early this time.
I got myself a Coke at the bar and headed over to the socializing area. Only two of the tables were occupied. The guys were completely focused on their respective friends, so I walked back. I didn't see Christoph, but the evening was just beginning. There were also free tables in the gallery. So I stayed in my last seat and watched the action on the dance floor. It felt like people were just warming up.
Sometimes boys would look at me, but I accepted that as normal. However, I was relieved to note that Bastian was dancing quite intensely with a boy. I figured it wouldn't be long before he disappeared with him into the introduction area. Watching him passed the time and reassured me that he wasn't coming to me.
I went to the counter with my empty Coke bottle. Without a word, the waitress exchanged the bottle for a full one and took my money.
Suddenly, someone gently nudged me in the hips. I could already hear his laughter as I struggled to keep the bottle from falling.
“Well, Tom,” said Christoph, flashing me his radiant smile, “have you been waiting for me?”
“I bought myself a Coke,” I said seriously, watching the smile disappear.
It was my turn to smile about it and since Christoph understood me, I got another gentle nudge.
“Shall we dance?”
“Unfortunate again,” I said, and laughed because it was the same last time.
Christoph also got a bottle and we went over to the introduction area.
We sat down away from the already occupied tables.
“This is where the boys get turned on,” Christoph whispered to me knowingly.
"I know!"
“But you were pretty reserved, or rather, pretty bitchy, with Bastian.”
Either he had been watching me last week or it had been reported to him.
“So what!” I said resolutely and drank the Coke.
"Hey, it's OK. I actually like him. I fell for that asshole once," Christoph said calmly. Finally, Christoph explained to me that Bastian would sleep with anything that couldn't run fast enough.
I laughed and joked, “I’m not afraid, but I can run fast.”
“Exactly!” confirmed Christoph, “…and pretty quickly, too.”
We were still laughing about it when the door opened. Christoph's laughter immediately disappeared, and he looked over grumpily. An older man, wearing a summer suit, approached and piped up rather exaggeratedly: "Chrissi! You here?"
Christoph stood up and they kissed each other.
“Introduce me?” the man asked and I stood up.
“This is Tom,” Christoph introduced me, “Frank, or better known as the ‘Duke of Büskow’.”
Frank was about to kiss me, but my hand was quicker. He gently took it and looked at me intently.
“Oh, a young, inexperienced prince,” he crooned, casually waving his raised hand.
I was more surprised by the whole thing; I dismissed it as a slapstick comedy and suppressed an urgent laugh.
We sat down, and Christoph exchanged a few formal words with the man about how we were both feeling and who was doing what. Since I didn't understand anything about it anyway, I considered it better to leave. Every now and then, the elderly lady looked at me. His gaze seemed to me to be condescending.
"Well, I see," said the old man, "you want to sniff each other out. Then I'll hurry to my harem."
With a farewell, the grey 'highness' disappeared and I could no longer suppress my laughter.
“What was the name of the movie that was just playing?” I asked, and my laughter was transmitted to Christoph.
“Come on, dance now,” Christoph urged me and pulled me along.
We found a spot somewhere among the dancers and Christoph calmly gave himself over to the music.
When Christoph later took me in his arms while playing a Rosenstolz song, his warm body close to me already seemed familiar. I liked the smell of his sun-tanned skin. I forgot my inhibitions and put my arm around his shoulders. We moved smoothly. My heart was beating wildly and my pulse was racing.
None of the dancing boys paid any attention to us, and I watched as some kissed or stroked their hands over their partners' bare backs. Christoph tilted his head back, looked at me with a smile, and approached me suspiciously. Our lips almost touched. At the last moment, I turned my head to the side. His kiss landed on the back of my neck.
“It’s okay,” said Christoph, kissing my neck again, “I like you, Tom.”
Christoph pulled me off the dance floor and onto the bar.
With two glasses, we went next door and sat down. I liked the vodka lemon, as well as his closeness. His hands holding mine, too, and the way he looked at me with his bluish eyes. Christoph loosened his braid and briefly stroked his blond hair.
There was already a lot of activity at the surrounding tables, but that didn't seem important to me anymore.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.
“I’m less than last week,” I said calmly, and Christoph’s grin showed that he understood me.
What did I care if people saw us like that? I was just happy. We leaned back and held hands.
Christoph wanted to know how I spent the week. I told him about my friends and what we'd done together. Except their problems weren't mine, which I was happy about.
“And you?” I wanted to know.
"Well, I play beach volleyball sometimes, and otherwise..." he said calmly, "...thinking about you...and just hanging out."
I laughed and wondered what he thought of me. Christoph dismissed the idea but promised he'd tell me later. When I asked, he explained that one shouldn't reveal all one's secrets right away. True, I wouldn't do that either. At the time, I considered the fact that I hadn't mentioned that I also lived in the high-rise the least of my worries. Then there was the lively email exchange with Ben, which had now made me want to meet him sometime. But the most important thing at the moment was that I had spent the previous night at Sven's. Even though nothing had happened, I still felt it was inappropriate for me to talk to Christoph about it.
“Are you somewhere else?” Christoph asked me, since I hadn’t said anything for a long time.
“No, falling asleep,” I replied, laughing.
“Come on, then we have to dance!” he said, standing up.
Two boys stood behind Christoph and urged him to appear before the old highness.
“Not now, later…” said Christoph seriously.
One of the boys repeated what he was told and Christoph gave in.
“Please wait here,” he asked me and I nodded.
I watched Christoph and the two of them in surprise. Apparently, the 'Duke' had so much authority that it was better not to contradict him. I finished my vodka lemon and went to the bar, where I ordered a Coke.
From here, I saw Christoph talking quite vehemently to His Highness. He remained calm, sipping his cocktail, and the two boys sat quietly by his side.
I was sure Christoph would explain it to me later, so I went back to the next room. Our table was now occupied, and the boys were quite lasciviously engaged with each other. I waited by the stairs to the gallery. The room seemed to be overdoing each other in exuberance, and the spectacle distracted me.
"Shall we go?" Christoph suddenly asked me, and I agreed. Outside, a pleasant night warmth greeted us. Dark gray clouds, illuminated by the moon, were gathering in the sky. I took a deep breath and noticed that Christoph seemed quite preoccupied.
Without a word, he followed me to the bus stop. The fact that the disco ended rather abruptly didn't bother me, because what remained important to me was that I was with Christoph.
The next tram was leaving in half an hour, which Christoph accepted without a word.
We sat down. I looked at Christoph, who seemed very engrossed. Unfortunately, his shoulder-length hair obscured his face. I already knew the conversation wasn't about anything trivial. But I didn't want him to think I was being nosy.
“Problems?” I asked cautiously.
He nodded silently and otherwise remained motionless.
“Would you like to talk about it?
Christoph took a while longer and then talked about how he'd done something stupid and wanted to undo it. He didn't say what it was, and I didn't dare ask.
“Shall we go for a walk?” I asked, more out of embarrassment, because I couldn’t think of anything to cheer Christoph up.
“Hmm, maybe quite good, right?”
I took his hand and pulled him along. As we ran, we switched who pulled whom, and Christoph found his smile again. By the time we passed the second stop, Christoph couldn't take it anymore and fell behind.
I stopped and walked towards him slowly, breathing deeply.
“You should… participate in the Olympics,” he snorted, gasping for air.
We trotted slowly on and I told him that I used to walk a lot with my father.
“I only know mine when it comes to work,” Christoph said, describing his father. “Now he’s often away even on weekends.”
“What is he doing?”
"Well, he used to own a small company. When he went bankrupt, everything was gone. We even had to move out of our house. Now he's working as a construction manager in Denmark, and maybe we'll even move there permanently," Christoph reported, and you could see how sad he was about it.
At Luisenplatz, we sat down at the deserted bus stop. Christoph caught his breath.
“I also think that’s why my boyfriend broke up with me,” Christoph continued.
"As soon as we moved here, he became scarce. When I confronted him, he actually said that the way I was living now, we weren't suited," Christoph said broodingly, "well, that's how it goes."
After a pause, he added: “I hate this block of flats!”
I looked over at my former “microcosm,” and even though I didn’t like everything, I couldn’t hate it.
While I was shuffling my feet and Christoph was still sitting thoughtfully next to me, the tram arrived.
“Shall we walk the last bit?” he asked me, standing up.
"Sure. I'm already starting to put down roots," I replied, laughing at myself.
In front of the high-rise entrance, Christoph asked if I wanted to go home right away.
“I’m home,” I said, explaining to him.
“You must be really scared of me,” Christoph remarked matter-of-factly.
But Christoph smiled again, nudged me, and then looked up to assess the height.
While we waited for the elevator, we agreed to each go home. In the second elevator, where Christoph got off, we exchanged cell phone numbers. Christoph insisted on knowing how long I'd slept and whether we were meeting up for ice cream afterward. I promised to call him right away and wished him good night, probably for the fifth time.
I held the elevator doors open several times. Between lots of giggles and a few suggestive remarks, I let Christoph give me a quick kiss.
I let go of the doors and jumped in just in time.
With each floor, I felt both inspired and liberated. I repeatedly read his cell phone number on my forearm.
I stood at the window and watched the morning. I was far too excited to sleep. My thoughts kept circling around Christoph. I remembered his conversation with the old 'Highness'. What stupid thing could he have done that he was so keen to take it back? I could only laugh at my stupidities now, and I could live with the few embarrassing moments in my life. So it had to be something really stupid that was bothering him. The fact that he didn't talk about it didn't mean he didn't trust me. I did find it strange that someone would call himself 'Duke of...'. The way he moved repelled me, as did the way the two boys behaved, acting subservient to the old man.
The cell phone rang.
“Can’t you sleep either?” Christoph asked.
“Yes!” I said, trying not to laugh happily.
“Hmm, then sleep well.”
“You too, Chrissi.”
“Please, Tom,” Christoph sounded more determined, “forget the name, please!”
“Yeah, sure, sorry,” I said immediately.
Christoph remained silent.
“Are you asleep yet?” I asked into the silence.
“No, of course not,” he said, sounding conciliatory, “I keep thinking about what happened before.”
"Earlier?"
“Oh Tom, aren’t you ever romantic?”
"Let's think," I joked casually, "with a candle and wine, as a trouser opener? Or on the beach, lounging naked in the sand, watching the sunset?"
Christoph laughed and said he imagined something like that, especially with me. Also, kissing at the elevator door. A contemplative smile crossed my face.
"You're just trying to get your hands on me. No, no, Tom isn't that fast," I joked.
"Underwear? What do you wear to bed?"
Since I didn't want to lie, I admitted defeat.
“I’m not even in bed yet.”
"Me neither. What are you doing?" asked Christoph.
“Standing at the window.”
Christoph wanted to know what I saw. I described the view from the eighteenth floor.
“I see garages, dumpsters and…” he replied.
"What else?"
He calmly explained that he saw something unusual among the containers. Finally, he suggested it could well be a dead dog or cat. I rolled my eyes and grinned.
Then he asked if it was already light upstairs, which made me giggle out loud.
“Sure, and if I lean out, I can see that the light reaches all the way down.”
"It's dark in here," Christoph replied seriously, "Shit! I still have the blinds down."
We giggled back and forth.
“Then I’ll finally go to bed,” I chatted casually, but Christoph wanted me to describe it to him.
“Only if you do too,” I replied.
Christoph could only be heard faintly, as he said he was taking off his shirt. I did the same.
„Tom?“
“And?”
“Can I sleep with you?” he asked sweetly.
I put my hand to my phone in shock. What should I say? Yes, because I was already longing for it? No, because I was afraid of being embarrassed? Christoph wasn't Sven.
“I’m very good too,” he said, in the tone of a small child.
Christoph made me laugh, but the apprehension remained.
“Better not,” I said matter-of-factly.
Christoph sighed loudly and seemed deeply saddened. He assured me again that he didn't mean to take me by surprise. At least he knew I would have liked it too, but I wasn't ready yet.
“Apartment 12, floor, you know,” I said calmly, immediately doubting whether I was in reality.
“Really?” I heard Christoph’s voice ask in surprise.
“Yes.”
When the doorbell rang, I was startled. I'd never heard it ring so loudly before. For a moment, I thought of Father. I stopped myself from thinking about it and opened the door.
Christoph stood in front of me, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders hunched, and I invited him in.
He closed the door behind him. The kiss was longer and more intimate this time. I held him tightly in my arms.
Lying on my bed, I pressed myself tightly against him, longing for his mouth. Christoph gently soothed me and covered my breast with countless kisses. Breathing heavily, I surrendered to the caresses.
“What are you doing?” I asked uncertainly as he pulled the shirt over my head.
“I want to listen to you.”
I laughed out loud and Christoph raised his head.
“Not so loud, please.”
My eyelids felt leaden, and I kept them closed. I didn't care how long we'd been lying on the bed together. Only Christoph seemed wide awake, as his hand gently circled my stomach and chest. I played with his hair and held on to the suspended state.
“Don’t you want to sleep?” I asked quietly.
“Hmm, aren’t we already doing that?”
“I mean properly, like you sleep.”
“Really? Really?” he asked, and I could almost feel him smiling.
“Christoph,” I warned, “I think I’m already dreaming.”
Christoph turned his head towards me and kissed my lips.
"Tommy. This isn't a dream."
Although it was difficult, I stood up and threw the rest of my clothes over the chair. Christoph did the same, and when I asked him to lie against the wall, he held up the duvet invitingly.
I snuggled up to him and as I fell asleep, I felt his arm comfortingly.


„Tom!“
I heard my name called from far away. Again, it was called softly, and I searched for the caller.
“Tom!” Christoph called quietly and shook my shoulder.
"Not now. I just fell asleep," I said tiredly, searching for the comforting silence.
“Tom!” Christopher called pleadingly, “there was someone standing in the doorway.”
“So what…” I replied grumpily.
“I think it’s your father!”
Christoph jumped up and nervously ran his hand through his hair.
“Shit… shit!” I hissed, “what time is it?!”
“Almost three o’clock in the afternoon,” Christoph estimated cautiously.
We hurriedly got dressed. While Christoph wanted to know how he could get out of here unscathed, I was gripped by a panicky array of questions and doubts.
"You wait here for now!" I ordered Christoph. I explained my strategy to him and immediately dismissed it.
"It's best if you just go. I'll sort this out!" I finally decided, waiting impatiently at the door. Christoph was still undecided.
“What now?!” I demanded.
Christoph just nodded. The hallway was quiet, so I led the way. Father was standing at the living room window, and I pushed Christoph past me. He mumbled something like a greeting, and I closed the apartment door. My heart was pounding. How could I possibly explain it to him? The silence only increased my anxiety.
I stood in the doorway, searching for the right words.
"How was it?" I finally asked. I felt stupid about it, but at least it was a start.
“You’d better explain to me what this is all about!” said Father seriously and continued to look outside.
“That was Christoph,” I replied haltingly, “a friend… my friend… so…”
Father remained silent. Standing there, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, he seemed unpredictable, even alien. When he usually spoke seriously to me, he at least looked at me and we discussed the matter. But this time, he ignored my presence. I didn't move, and my apprehension was mixed with the fact that Father's immobility was irritating me.
“I like him… a lot!” I blurted out angrily.
Let him keep looking outside, I'll sort it out one way or another, I decided.
“Say something!” I urged Father.
“You’re far from in a position to demand anything!”
“OK,” I replied seriously, “then not!”
I would have preferred to run to my room and lock myself in. Only then would have remained unsaid what had long been weighing on my conscience.
“I don’t want to ask for anything!” I shouted to Father, “but… I’m… gay!”
I waited, but Father said nothing. Angrily, I ripped open the door and slammed it shut. Mrs. Helbig was just coming out of her apartment carrying a plate of cake. When she saw me, she looked at me uncertainly. Surely she knew everything and had also heard the bang of the door, I thought. My heart was beating so hard that I couldn't say anything. I walked past without a word, just wanting to get away.
In the stairwell, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I leaned against the wall and felt the pressure lift. I felt miserable. Miserable because I had finally spoken out, because I disappointed Father, because I'm just different. I wiped my face. I calmed myself down and called Christoph.
“Tom, come to me first,” he said when I briefly explained the situation to him.
„OK.“
For ages, I'd been taking the stairs. At least here I could be sure no one would see me.
After all, it was nobody's business that I let my sadness run free. I took a breath and rang the bell several times.
“It’s for me!” I heard Christoph say.
“Come in,” he asked me and we went straight to his room.
I sat down on his lounger and hid my face from him. He put his arm around my neck to comfort me and gently stroked my neck.
“Oh Tom, it’ll be okay,” Christoph reassured me.
I pressed myself against him and started crying. His closeness gave me the confidence that I was no longer isolating my feelings.
“Tom, dear,” Christoph reassured me and kissed my neck.
Only slowly did I regain my composure. I was disappointed in myself for running away and not standing firm. Christoph compared what I told him to his own coming out. But there are always differences, he admitted.
I sighed again, and when I said that it was out now, I felt a little relieved.
There was a knock at the door and I pushed Christoph away abruptly.
"Excuse me, boys," Christoph's mother said kindly, immediately looking worried when she saw me sitting there crying. It didn't matter anymore, I told myself, and stood up.
“You must be Tom, right?” she asked worriedly, holding out her hand to me.
"Yes," I managed. Christoph must have informed her about me.
“Would you like cake and coffee?” she asked again kindly.
"I'll come with you and help." Christoph jumped up and led her into the kitchen. He returned with cups and a plate of freshly baked crumb cake. I disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and freshened my face.
Our appetites returned during the meal, and we devoured the pieces in no time. Christoph's room was more like a collection of countless books, interspersed with CDs and DVDs, and where there were no shelves, you could see posters of boy bands. It was pretty clear, I judged, that he was attracted to boys.
Next to the computer monitor hung a few photos of various boys. They were probably his friends, I decided, but I didn't ask.
“What do you think of the room?” Christoph wanted to know and I told him that it was definitely something.
Laughing, he sat down next to me, nudged me, and finally said that I was back to my old self.
“Well, you should see when I’ve cleaned up.”
"Isn't it?"
“Hmm, don’t open the closet,” he said and gave me a kiss.
“Bitch,” I said, and was already laughing again when he hugged me.
Christoph put on one of the soft rock CDs, and we listened to the music. I felt strong enough to survive the arguments with my father that were still to come. The beginning had been made, and for me, it was irreversible.
“Who is that in the pictures?” I asked Christoph.
“Hmm, one is my ex and I know the others well enough that I wouldn’t want to miss them.”
I got up and sat down at the computer. Some of the guys seemed similar in appearance, but I couldn't decide who was the ex.
“Which is your ex-boyfriend?”
“The one on the top left,” said Christoph calmly.
I saw a dark-haired guy sitting somewhere on a terrace. His upper arms suggested an athletic build.
“Aha,” I simply remarked, and Christoph suddenly held a digital camera in his hand.
“Stay like that,” he said, and it clicked several times.
“Please don’t,” I protested, holding my hand in front of my face.
Christoph didn't stop, just laughed and gave instructions.
“Now sit on the bed, please.”
Since I couldn't stop him anymore, I did it, and the camera started clicking.
“Now let’s get together,” and Christoph was next to me, holding the camera in front of us.
As his computer booted up, I saw a blurry photo on his desktop. I recognized the "cuckoo egg."
“Have you found it yet?” asked Christoph, smiling.
„Was?“
“Not what, but you,” he remarked expectantly, and since I didn’t find anything, he pointed to one of the dancing boys.
"That's you."
I recognized my T-shirt. The rest of it was blurry, so I had to use my imagination.
Christoph copied the photos and we laughed because the grimaces were pretty violent.
Christoph was quite selective and chose a picture of me and placed it on his desktop.
“Thank you,” he said contentedly and gave me a kiss.
Then he removed the picture of his ex from the pinboard and tore it up.
Time passed, and I stayed for dinner. His mother invited us into the kitchen, where the table was already set.
“Are you okay, Tom?” she asked, and I apologized.
"You don't have to apologize. We all suffered back then and learned to accept it."
She said it calmly and calmly, which gave me confidence that Father would sometimes do the same. Christoph only became serious for a moment when she talked about Rico, whom she liked. But she also understood that at our age, you don't want to commit to anything forever. These days, you just try things out, she said.
“Still, I don’t like flying from flower to flower like a bee,” Christoph admitted.
"I know, Chris," she calmly reassured. Then she talked about her husband, who was trying to convince the family that they could live elsewhere. But Chris is supposed to graduate from high school next year, so there's plenty of time.
Of course, she asked me what I was doing, and I willingly gave her information.
“And what do your parents do?”
"My father works for the city. My mother is already dead," I said, and Christoph's mother made it clear she was sorry.
“I don’t really remember her anymore, it was a long time ago,” I said, and I didn’t fail to mention that Father was apparently friends with a woman.
“Yeah, sure,” she said casually, “no one can stay alone forever.”
Christoph's mother suggested that I might be talking to Mrs. Helbig. But at first, I considered that only a vague possibility.
We stayed in the kitchen. Christoph loaded the dishes into the dishwasher as if it were the most natural thing in the world and then brought "The Game of Knowledge" to the table. Sometimes Christoph was in the lead, then his mother. Finally, I asked his mother to call me by her first name, which I preferred.
When it was 11:00 p.m., I said goodbye and thanked Christoph's mother.
“Tom, you’re always welcome,” she said kindly and even gave me a kiss on the cheek.
We giggled in front of the elevator, and Christoph nudged me twice because he thought I'd won another heart. Since we were alone, we kissed casually.
“Should I wake you up?” asked Christoph, laughing.
“Not before noon, please.”
Christoph stayed in the elevator door, and I gave him another kiss. Then I pushed him back and laughed as he tried in vain to push the door open again.
Outside the apartment, I took a deep breath and unlocked the door. My father was sitting in the living room, still watching TV.
I didn't get a response to my "Hi," so I went to my room.
I booted up the computer. It was long past time for me to write to Ben. I tried several times, but the right words just wouldn't come to mind.
Finally, I reported in order and sent the email.
Since no other users contacted me, I clicked out of the chat. I was interested in the pages where other users wrote about their coming out, and I read a few posts.
I came to the conclusion that the experiences were as different as life itself.
It couldn't be any other way, I reasoned. But at least I was reassured that most people reported ultimately positive results. I didn't want to participate myself.
Finally, I was surprised that neither Michael nor Sascha had called me, but they were probably off enjoying themselves.
This time it didn't take me as long to shower, and I lay down in bed, allowing myself to indulge in pleasant thoughts of Christoph.
The buzzing of my cell phone and the bright sun shining in told me I had slept through the night without having any dreams.
„Hm?!“
“Breakfast at noon!” Christoph called out, laughing, and told me to come to the door.
“Oh man,” I complained, “let me sleep.”
“Sleepyhead, get up now and open up!”
“Just a minute,” I grumbled and stood up.
Father had long since left for work, and I saw a note lying in the kitchen.
I opened the door for Christoph, who immediately hugged and kissed me.
“Oh oh, what am I feeling?” he asked amusedly.
“Hands off!” I said and disappeared into the bathroom.
Even when I turned the water cold, it didn't help.
After drying myself off, I felt relieved enough and went naked into my room, where I took new clothes out of the closet and put them on.
Christoph eyed me, but he remained seated calmly. It certainly wasn't strange to him to see me naked, and he respected my attitude.
On the note in the kitchen I read: “I do the shopping.”
No "Dear Tom" or "Greetings, Father" as usual, which disappointed me, but it reminded me that there were surely many more discussions to come. I crumpled the note and threw it in the trash.
“Make some coffee,” I asked Christoph and ran into my room.
I took a piece of paper and wrote 'The gay zone starts here!' and taped it to my door. Satisfied with myself, I showed it to Christoph, who also thought it was a good idea.
After a quick breakfast, I read Ben's email. He congratulated me on Christoph and wished me luck with him. Of course, he would be happy if we could meet up in the city sometime. If that wasn't possible for me right now, he certainly understood. In general, he wished we could take a break from our email exchange, as we would have more to talk about later. To me, that meant he wanted to end our contact, and I included that in my reply.
“Period and end of story,” I said to Christoph, who said that envy was widespread among gay people.
Afterward, I packed a towel and swim shorts. Christoph and I drove to the beach. On the way, Michael called and wanted to know if I was still alive. I confirmed that I was, and we agreed to talk on the phone again that evening.
Christoph leaned calmly on his sports bag and watched me with a smile. I occasionally turned around, but none of the other passengers paid us much attention.
On the beach, we walked past the usual access point. I silently assumed that Christoph was looking for a quiet spot for us.
When we had long since left the city behind us, he turned into an unpaved access road.
I trudged after him through the soft, hot sand. The place was hardly a quiet place. Boys and men were lying or sitting in the sand, either alone or in groups. While we looked for a spot, Christoph occasionally greeted one of the people present.
Near the dunes and the volleyball court, Christoph threw his sports bag into the sand.
He calmly looked around while undressing. Embarrassed, I looked at all the naked people around me. Unsure if anyone was watching me, I sat on the blanket and pulled my legs up protectively. Christoph stood next to me, feeling completely free.
“Shall we go swimming?” he asked me, amused by the way I hunched over.
“You could have said something,” I said quietly, already clearly feeling the tightness in my pants.
Laughing, he lay down next to me and stroked my arm caringly.
“Tommy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“For me, yes!” I hissed and turned onto my stomach.
“Aha, I see,” he concluded, amused, and whispered in my ear that this was perfectly normal.
“Sure, you see it everywhere!” I protested and buried my face.
“You can keep your swimming trunks on, then no one will see,” he advised me, adding that no one would see anything in the water anyway.
I turned to him: “You mean no one sees this?”
Christoph whistled appreciatively through his teeth and laughed again.
“Come on, why don’t you change while sitting down or should I hold the blanket?”
We laughed at the idea that this would attract even more attention, and I sat up.
I let him persuade me and changed my clothes. Without waiting for him, I ran into the cold water and dived. With a few powerful strokes, I approached Christoph, who submerged me, and I submerged him. The tension was forgotten, and we splashed through the water.
On the way to our seat, a young man asked if I needed any more diapers. I took the laughter of those lying around him in stride and gave them the middle finger.
“Wow, how brave!” someone shouted, joining in the laughter.
Christoph stretched in the sun and I took off my shorts.
“You should show what you have,” he remarked lovingly and gave me a kiss.
We helped each other apply sunscreen and lay dozing in the sun.
„Hi Christoph!“
When I looked up, a naked young man was kneeling next to Christoph and was carelessly extending his hand to me as well.
“Have you heard that the police visited the Duke?”
"Nonsense!"
"Yes, yes! Yesterday, and they took him away too," the boy reported, also knowing that a complaint had been filed against the 'Duke'.
Christoph listened attentively and asked for details that the other person didn't know very well.
Christoph repeatedly asked for possible photos, but this caused the boy to shake his head.
When the naked man disappeared again, Christoph remained thoughtful.
“Is this important to you?” I asked cautiously and Christoph seemed withdrawn, but then he nodded.
“Would it be bad if we left?” he asked, and I said no.
“What do you have to do with the Duke?” I finally wanted to know, because Christoph made no attempt to tell me.
“I’ll tell you,” he said nervously, “tonight, then I’ll know more.”
“Good,” I replied and got dressed.
The way back seemed shorter to me, or maybe it was because Christoph was walking quickly and I was walking alongside him without saying a word.
At his home he called someone who seemed to know more.
“Christoph, is Frank here?”
Apparently not, because Christoph continued to ask what was going on. He listened for minutes, pacing nervously back and forth.
“What did they take with them?”
Finally, Christoph hung up and sat down on his bed. He wiped his face several times and seemed to be seriously considering something.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked into the silence.
“It should,” he said thoughtfully, “but that will come.”
After another pause, Christoph announced that the 'Duke' had been arrested. With the computers they had confiscated, even a conviction was almost certain.
“Hmm, and what do you have to do with that?” I asked again.
“Actually nothing,” he said seriously, “I didn’t get him any boys.”
“How worried?”
"Oh man, Tom," he said irritably, "I was always having a falling out with the 'Duke' about this. I was supposed to bring him boys, very young ones. Preferably around thirteen years old. But I refused."
“Why could he ask that of you?”
“Just like that,” he evaded and went out.
When he came back with Coke and glasses, I asked again and made it clear to Christoph that I didn't put on my jeans with pliers.
Apparently annoyed that I kept asking about it, Christoph sat down at the computer and called up a few pictures.
What I saw took my breath away. Except for his face, the others were unrecognizable.
“He wanted to send them to my parents if I didn’t…” Christoph interrupted and clicked away the viewing window.
I refused to think any further about what I had just seen. But details were burned into my memory. Christoph's laughing face, the old men, all naked. Why was Christoph laughing in the photo? He must have still been enjoying himself sitting on the horny old guy.
A shiver ran down my spine. First he was riding on old fogeys, and then he pretended to be reasonable? What, I don't do it with just anyone. As far as I was concerned, Christoph suddenly had no scruples, nor did he know any boundaries at all.
“Is everything OK?” he asked me.
“OK… OK?” I said, stunned and angry at the same time, “you… you…!”
I couldn't think of the right word for him and I jumped up.
“Tom, dear…” Christoph tried to calm me down, “that was…”
“Do it with whoever you want,” I said, completely upset, “just leave me alone!”
I fled the room and the apartment. I ran down the stairs and out into the open.
My cell phone rang, but I immediately turned it off. No! I don't want anything explained or even described, I told myself, and walked across the parking lot toward the city center.
The more I thought about it, the more my disappointment in Christoph hurt. I sat down on a bench at the city harbor. Just yesterday, I defended him to Father and even revealed my closely guarded secret about our friendship. I felt like I was just another adventure for him. In his language, that meant the maiden to be seduced. Not with me! What else was coming to light about Christoph? I remembered the encounter with the 'Duke' in the disco, and nausea overcame me.
Later, I decided to ask Sven and learn more about the 'Duke' and his clique.
At home, Dad had already eaten, and I found my plate of spaghetti in the microwave. While he listened to the news and ignored me, I ate indifferently in the kitchen.
Actually, it wasn't like him to remain silent for days. I didn't even try to say anything. It was all just too much for me.
In my room, I demonstratively turned the key loudly and threw myself onto the bed.
I spent the evening sitting at the computer and playing games.

I only met Sven on Friday at the "Regenbogen." He said he was having a hell of a time at work, but he could really use the extra hours. His joy, first on the phone and then sitting in front of me, was even contagious.
We sat away from the pool table. I told him about Christoph and what had happened, the encounter with the 'Duke,' what I learned about him, and also about the photo.
“Hmm,” said Sven thoughtfully, “this must be hard for you right now.”
“Yes,” I replied, “and things were just starting out so well with Christoph.”
Sven didn't know much about the 'Duke.' The "cuckoo's egg" belonged to him. Otherwise, he did put up with a few rascals, but he wasn't alone in this. Many of the older ones, who also had the necessary cash, also attracted attention this way.
“I have no idea about any parties with minors.”
Sven certainly understood my disappointment, and his opinion of the community in general sounded rather unhappy. He felt there was a lack of acceptance among fellow members. There was too much self-promotion, and everything was just for show. For him, the scene was merciless and, above all, dominated by a youth obsession. For him, that meant that at twenty-five, you're out. That's one of the reasons he preferred "Café Regenbogen." Mixed clientele, a bit of a chat, a drink, and if you want, you can even take one or two people home with you, he said with a contented serenity.
"In the community, the main thing is fun and action," added Sven. "They always lack the money for prevention and counseling. They quickly say it's not our fault if the guys get infected."
Sven was serious about the idea that one shouldn't expect anything from the Lesbian and Gay Association or from politicians. What's important to them is Pride or some other event; that's what we want! Only when AIDS numbers rise again to the point where even their social circles are affected do they become alarmed, and ultimately, they just want to polish their profile by quickly distributing money.
“Okay,” he said, “your problem is different.”
Sven suggested that I at least talk to Christoph about it again. I should at least give him the chance. I nodded, because I'd completely distanced myself from him over the past few days. He tried to reach me on my cell phone several times, but I always hung up. The doorbell rang at noon, and I saw him in the peephole, but I never answered.
Two days ago, Mrs. Helbig approached me at the discount store. She was obviously interested in how I was getting along with my father. When I told her that we were only exchanging notes, she was sad. At least she thought it was really brave of me to tell him. She offered that if I wanted to, she would be there for me.
"After all," Sven pointed out, "it doesn't necessarily have to have been the case that your Christoph enjoyed it. Today, you can electronically manipulate any photo to make it look completely different."
"That's true," I said, and suggested we leave. Michael and Sascha were inviting me to a second-to-last garage party that evening, and I didn't want to be a spoilsport.
Sven paid the bill and I accompanied him to his front door.
“Thank you for letting us talk,” I said, extending my hand to him.
“Well, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?” he remarked kindly.
With a “You’re doing the right thing,” he disappeared behind the front door.
On the way, I got myself a pack of beer and felt satisfied that I had shared my problem with Sven.
"All right, everyone," said Sascha, who had risen to his feet, "today is the second-to-last garage party. The last one is next week, agreed?! To make it a great evening, I'll say cheers."
Katja and Helen clapped, and we all toasted to a great evening, which was mostly laughed about.
“Sascha is doing his career-oriented internship year and our training starts in three weeks,” Katja announced, and I congratulated Sascha.
"Dude! You have to congratulate me," roared Sascha, pointing at Helen, "after all, she persuaded me to do it."
“To Helen!” I shouted to the group and took care of the grill.
The atmosphere hadn't been as good as it was that evening in a long time. Music, food and drinks, and even dancing—it couldn't have been better.
“Tell me, Tom,” yelled Sascha, who already seemed a bit drunk, “what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
Somewhat frightened, I paused and explained meaningfully that this would remain my secret.
"Come on, Tom," Michael responded, also curious. Katja and Helen looked at me expectantly, but I confirmed to them that there wasn't the right one for me yet.
“I’ll guess,” Katja interjected, “Nadja? Yvonne? Susann? …”
I shook my head and laughed.
“Oh please, Tom,” Helen begged me to at least say the name.
This continued for a while. No matter what other topic I brought up, they always came back to it.
“Chris.” I was shocked that I said the shortened form of Christoph.
There was no stopping them. They all wanted me to describe them. So I confirmed or corrected what Katja said. Same height, slim, blonde, medium-length hair, and which high school.
I just let her believe that it was a friend and not Christoph.
“Why isn’t she here?” asked Sascha.
“Well,” I searched for an explanation, “we argued.”
The girls wanted to know the reason, but I just said that maybe it would go back into place.
“Dude! Bring her next week!” Sascha declared.
The evening ended with my friends going to the disco and me going home.
Father wasn't there, which was nothing new, so I went to my room. With a few chats in between, I stayed up until just after midnight.
Saturday began gray and rainy. Surprised, I read in the kitchen that Dad was at the office in the morning, and my pocket money was also missing. There was nothing to buy, and I didn't find any dirty laundry in the bathroom. Well, then the elves must be taking care of it, I told myself amusedly, and went into the bathroom.
At first, I wanted to remove the note from my door right away, but then I thought better of it and it stayed there. I want Dad to be reminded of it every time.
I made my bed and tidied up, vacuumed the apartment, and patted myself on the back afterward.
The keys turned in the door and Mrs. Helbig greeted me. Aha, the laundry fairy!
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said kindly, putting down the laundry basket.
“I was wondering.”
“Harald had to go to the office today for an event or something…”
“Yes, yes, I know,” I replied, “but we also have a machine.”
She laughed heartily and, of course, agreed with me. Then she asked if we might want to have coffee.
"Sure, yours tastes better too," I praised her. I kept to myself that I already recognized a certain intention. Either this was Father's way of asking for relenting, or it was purely her idea.
“Great,” she said with relief, “here or at my place?”
“Hmm,” good reason for me to see your apartment, “at your place.”
"Good. Let's go over there."
Her apartment was missing only a children's room; otherwise, it resembled ours. The furniture was modern and practical, and all in all, it was really cozy. She invited me into the living room and nimbly whisked me into the kitchen. The coffee was already ready, confirming my assumption about her intention.
Well, okay, I told myself, if it helps. The last two days have been really stressful for me, not having spoken to my father or me.
“Good, Tom,” she said, pouring the fragrant coffee, “cookies or cake?”
“What has to go first,” I joked and we laughed.
She brought a homemade sponge cake that tasted better than anything you'd normally get from a bakery.
“Man, man,” I said approvingly, “so delicious.”
“Thank you,” she said embarrassedly, but then got to the real topic.
“You know now that I’m friends with Harald, your father,” she explained gently, occasionally taking a sip of coffee to cover up her excitement.
They'd known each other for months, and she immediately assured me that she liked him very much. They didn't have any concrete plans yet, but you never know. At her friendly smile, I nodded.
“So, Tom,” asked Mrs. Helbig, still looking uncertain, “what do you actually think about this?”
Aha, that's where the wind is blowing from now, I thought, and was surprised to think that I had assumed it was actually about my father and me.
“That’s OK, isn’t it?” I said briefly.
“So you mean… for you… there are no… objections?”
I noticed she was still unsure, and then said that I personally thought she was perfectly fine. I couldn't find fault with her friendly, caring nature, even if they were to get married. It seemed to me as if Father had just avoided giving me a long, drawn-out explanation.
I saw a wave of relief on her face.
"So, Tom, of course you two still have…" she said later, "oh, nonsense, so what I'm trying to say. I know how you feel, and I've already told your father the same thing. You shouldn't oppose homosexuality. It exists, and it's not a bad thing. A colleague of mine used to take his own life because of it. But it can't get that far. I fully accept it. These days, people don't look at you askance for it anymore. And if you're homosexual, you're still his son!"
I looked at her expectantly, because I could see that it was really on her mind.
"Now your father doesn't know how to tell you," she said calmly, also with relief. "Help him a little with this. He's really suffering the way things are right now."
I suddenly felt unspeakable pain and wasn't ashamed of my tears. Although I didn't know what drove me, I hugged her.
“I love him too,” I blurted out.
Mrs. Helbig stroked my back lovingly and said that women were meant to love, comfort, and care for men.
Later she brought two liqueur glasses and the bottle to the table and we agreed on Inge and Tom.
Inge enthusiastically recounted, with a twinkle in her eyes, how she met her father, how her husband had died of cancer five years ago, and how she unfortunately hadn't had any children. She had only had her job at the discount store for four years.
“Better a bad one than none at all,” was her motto, and she dreamed of going on holiday to the Carpathians again.
Finally, she asked about my boyfriend, and I told her we had a falling out because... I didn't say why, and she didn't ask either.
Then she said that things like that happen all the time. Then you talk things out, make up, or just break up. We're still young, that's when you have the most experiences. Even painful experiences are helpful in life, but it's best to love each other for life.
We drank another liqueur, but then I left. At the door, she said that Dad would probably be home later because of a party. She wanted to tell him that I was going to the disco.
In my room, I was somewhat amused by the idea that Father might marry Inge and thus become my stepmother. But I was happy for him to have this woman.
On the way to the disco at the "Kuckucksei" (Cuckoo's Egg), I deliberately took my time because I didn't want to get there too early. I took a detour via the city harbor. The illuminated pier was almost deserted. There were still lots of guests in the restaurants, and sometimes you could hear their conversations, especially when they were laughing. I thought of Christoph. I suspected he was angry with me or, even worse for me, wasn't even there. I thought it was unfair that I'd been totally refusing to meet him for the past few days. I shouldn't be surprised if he'd already moved on to another boy. That would be pretty stupid, but then I would have been punishing myself at the same time.
Tom, you have to go through with this, I told myself. It was just before midnight when I gave the young man at the "Kuckucksei" the money and got my stamp.
The crowd in the hall was already going wild. The music and the lighting did their best to heighten the atmosphere. The dance floor was packed. Even though I knew it was in vain, I searched for Christoph. None of the bystanders noticed my searching for Christoph, and no matter how I looked up at the gallery, he remained invisible to me there too. So, I thought frantically, he wasn't here. I went over to the "pick-up room." Here, too, all the tables were occupied, and the boys were more or less preoccupied with one of the other boys sitting nearby. Only Christoph wasn't among them, luckily this time, I thought.
At the bar I ordered a vodka lemon and stayed away from the crowd.
After two hours, I'd long since given up the search, and I ran out into the warm night. With a sickening feeling in my stomach, I headed toward Luisenplatz. The memory of walking there with Christoph was painful, and I practically felt like crying.

Only when I came out of the bathroom did I notice that my note on the door had disappeared. It didn't sound like Father was up yet. But as a late riser, I didn't know him either, and out of sheer caution, I didn't check the bedroom. In the kitchen, I filled the coffee maker. The sound of the key turning in the apartment door signaled his arrival.
“Hello,” he said calmly.
"Hello," I replied, relieved. Hearing his voice and having him talk to me felt really good.
“I took the note down.”
"It's OK."
Father stood undecided in the doorway, kneading the newspaper in his hand.
"We don't need to create zones. We live together here," said Father.
I went to him. The hug made any further words unnecessary.
After lunch, which this time was at Inge's, I drove down to Christoph's. Unfortunately, only his mother was at the door. She regretted that she could only tell me that Christoph was with his father.
“Why didn’t he tell you?” she wanted to know, and I briefly explained that there had been a stupid argument.
“Wait,” she said, smiling, “come in.”
She picked up the phone and called Christoph. Without mentioning me, she talked to him about how he was doing and when he'd finally be back. She listened attentively to Christoph.
“That’s nice, when?” she asked into the receiver and nodded understandingly.
Finally, she hung up and told me he'd be arriving on the ICE train around 8 p.m. I thanked her and went back upstairs.
I looked at the train information and then read, 7:56 p.m., platform 4.
Already satisfied that Christoph was alone with his father, I headed to the station. There were still ten minutes until arrival, and I positioned myself at the exit to the other platforms. After all, this is where all passengers had to go.
A few minutes late, the ICE train roared up. I impatiently searched for Christoph, focusing mainly on his blond hair. Nothing, no Christoph among the arriving passengers, I thought disappointedly. This was the end of the train's journey. I kept looking along the empty platform, hoping that Christoph would still arrive. The train crew was already milling through the carriages, so he couldn't be on the train.
I went down the stairs.
“Tom!” I suddenly heard my name, and I immediately recognized his voice.
He stood on the landing, a heavy backpack on his back, and came down the stairs.
“Christoph!” I said happily.
"Well, you?!"
I felt how much I'd missed his smile, and his closeness did me good. I recognized his joy in his shining eyes, and I felt a tingling sensation in my stomach.
“Are you still mad at me?” I asked, embarrassed.
Christoph looked at me intently, laughed, and hugged me. I was grateful to him for making it easy for me.
"It's a shame," he said, "I had to go alone. I'm sure you would have enjoyed it."
We took the tram. Christoph told him about his stay with his father, and I told him that I'd made peace with my father. Also, that Inge was a very capable woman and I wouldn't mind if she even became my stepmother. Before he got off the second tram, we agreed that he'd come back to me that evening. Father and Inge were in the living room.
“Hi,” I greeted her.
“Tom, wait a minute,” Father called after me.
“We wanted to ask you if you’d like to have dinner together on Thursday?” he asked somewhat uncertainly.
“Hmm. Why not,” I replied.
"Well," he added, looking to Inge for help, "so... you can invite your friend too... I just wanted to say."
“Christoph,” I said calmly, “his name is Christoph.”
"Of course. Christoph, I mean that too."
I thought about it for a moment. But then I decided it would be better if the invitation came from him, and Christoph could come to me later. He nodded hesitantly, and I disappeared into my room. With Inge's help, he'll manage, I thought.
The computer had just booted up when the doorbell rang. I opened the door a crack and listened into the hallway. Christoph asked for me, and Inge invited him in. Apparently they had gone into the living room, because I couldn't understand anything. Curious, I opened the door.
I just heard Christoph thanking me, and suddenly he was in front of me.
"You don't eavesdrop!" he said, laughing, and pushed me back into the room. He impatiently gave me a kiss. His hands wandered over my body.
“Oh man, I missed you,” he whispered in my ear and hugged me tightly.
"Me too!"
There was a knock and I pushed Christoph away.
“You can come in!”
Inge poked her head in and said they were going to her apartment, and after a quick "OK" from me, she was gone. I listened as the door closed and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I still have to get used to it,” I said to Christoph, “that she’s there too.”
He just laughed and lay down on my bed.
“Come to me,” he invited me.
I lay down next to him and Christoph covered my lips with a passionate kiss.
His hands gently wandered under my shirt, and his warmth increased my desire to be close to him. Kissing repeatedly, we helped each other undress, and when Christoph lay naked on top of me, I felt his desirable body extensively. I had just felt his lips on mine, and then they gently wandered over my breast and, moving deeper, played around my navel. Just when I thought I had reached the height of my arousal, Christoph kissed me in complete ecstasy. Breathing rapidly and shot through with lustful flashes, I took his head and kissed him greedily. With a desire for absolute closeness, Christoph pressed himself tightly against me, and I clung to him with my hands and feet. What followed was the fusion of our bodies in complete surrender. Accompanied by countless kisses, we surrendered to the wonderful warm feeling of relaxation. Our mutual vows of love strengthened my already existing feelings for Christoph.
Christoph lay next to me, breathing calmly. I turned to him and pressed my ear to his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady.
“What do you hear?” he asked quietly.
“Boom boom boom… I love you,” I whispered happily.
Christoph laughed and hugged me lovingly.
When I looked at the clock, it was already long past midnight. Father was probably staying with Inge.
“Are you hungry?” I asked Christoph.
“Just a little bit.”
"I do," I said into the silence and stood up. The lights of the streets and windows seemed brighter to me.
I finally went into the kitchen and made us sandwiches. We placed the plates between us and fed each other. Christoph practically pounced on every bite I handed him.
He kept me waiting for the last bite by taking it back just before I took it. I kept opening my mouth, laughing, until Christoph practically shoved the piece of bread into my mouth.
I fell backward, panting, and he came to me. Kissing him and laughing, I gasped for air.
Christoph began kissing my body again, and I allowed him to kiss every part of my body. The plate fell to the floor, but that was completely unimportant at that moment.
As it began to get light and carried by a wonderful feeling of happiness, I drifted off to sleep.
Only when my hand searched in vain for Christoph's body did I open my eyes. Although I was alone, I was also happy to see his clothes. I remembered with pleasure the last hours I had spent with him.
The door opened, and Christoph carried in a tray. Cups of coffee and toast spread with jam were on it.
“Good morning, my dear Tom,” he whispered and gave me a kiss.
“Hello, my dear Chris.”
The broken plate was still lying in front of my bed. Christoph placed the tray on the bed and sat down next to me. The coffee tasted good, I praised him, and he immediately gave me another kiss.
“Are we going to the beach?” he asked, chewing.
“Wherever you want to go, honey,” I joked and laughed.
Christoph gently nudged me and I nudged him.
"Oh, by the way," I said, "my friends want to meet you. Friday is supposed to be the ultimate garage party. I had to promise them I'd bring you."
Christoph thought I was joking at first, but I repeated what was agreed upon at the last party.
I briefly described to him who was friends with whom, and also that Sascha might be behaving inappropriately. I also made sure to mention that I had only given Chris as my name.
“So they think I’m bringing a girl,” I said, laughing.
“Oh, I don’t give up so easily,” said Christoph and gave me a kiss.
“I do,” I said thoughtfully.
Christoph stroked my hair and said encouragingly that I was still at the beginning.

The afternoon at the beach was filled with lots of laughter and giggles, but it wasn't so difficult for me. I even managed to move around without showing any visible excitement. Christoph played volleyball with a few boys, and I admired his athletic talent.
In general, the time with him was always varied.
When we woke up in the morning, I was sad that the holidays were almost over. This made me appreciate every minute we spent with him all the more.
The evening with Father and Inge was both entertaining and amusing. I saw Father more relaxed than he had been in a long time, and Inge joked casually, which prompted a lively giggle from us.
When I told Father on the way home that Christoph was sleeping over at my place, there were no objections. Inge, who was a bit tipsy from the wine, calmly replied that she would take Father home with her, so that the balance would be restored.
Father remarked that he hardly knew where to find his clothes anymore. What caught my attention, however, was that he was starting to get fed up with running two households. But I avoided the topic of marriage, thinking it was premature to bring it up.
In my room, Christoph impatiently undressed me, kissing me all over. Panting heavily, we stood in the shower, and Christoph's hands performed true miracles on me.
Eventually, he even carried me over to bed, and as I lay on my stomach, feeling his kisses along my back, I readily allowed him to do it. Christoph was very sensitive with me.
When I opened my eyes around noon and saw Christoph awake next to me, I clearly felt how much I loved him.
As I whispered to him, Christoph gave me a kiss: “I love you too.”
Cuddled up to him, I wanted this incredibly wonderful feeling to never end. Over breakfast at lunchtime, we made plans for the weekend. We agreed to watch the Pride parade at Luisenplatz and later go to the street festival at "Coming In."
The closer the garage party got, the more excited I became. Christoph, who had already changed, tried to encourage me.
“Tom, don’t drive yourself crazy!” he soothed and caressed me. “Friends accept it, otherwise they’re not friends at all.”
Already in the elevator, I was so nervous I wished I had turned around. I could hear the music blaring from the garage and saw Sascha and Helen standing at the grill.
My only hope was Christoph, who stayed beside me.
Michael and Katja were making out in the garage and when they saw us coming, Katja jumped over to Helen and they whispered to each other.
"This is Chris," I said, amazed at how calmly I managed to do it. I took Christoph's hand and introduced him to the others. Sascha's mouth fell open, the girls giggled, and Michael came over to me.
"Tom," he said calmly, "I thought so. Respect."
“Thank you,” I said, waving to Sascha because the sausages were starting to burn.
“Shit, man!” he shouted and Helen quickly handed him a plate.
Christoph made the rounds and shook everyone's hand. We arranged ourselves in the garage so everyone could sit down.
Of course, Sascha got to the point: “So Tom, are you gay or…?”
“Bad for you?” I replied.
Helen gave Sascha a headbutt and immediately kissed him.
“Dude! The main thing is that you stay the way you are!” he told me, which made me very happy.
During the course of the evening, Katja and Helen came to me and gave me a friendly hug.
“The only thing that matters is that you’re happy,” Katja whispered in my ear.
“I am, very much so,” I said.
Katja nodded encouragingly and kissed me on the cheek.
Sascha only became more trusting towards Christoph during the course of the evening when he told him that his father had been working in Denmark for a long time and that the family was about to move there.
When we stood together at the hedge, he even said that we weren't so strange after all.
“Well, there are other gay people even I would have trouble with,” I said, laughing.
Only with Michael was everything as we were used to. He calmly explained what program he was currently working on, but hardly any of us understood it, and there was more laughter when Sascha interrupted.
The friends finally left for their disco night. The party in Michael's father's garage was thus the ultimate last. Christoph and I took a detour via the city harbor before heading home.